


the last cycle

by honeyfoozle



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Chaptered, Corruption, Dark Magic, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Forced Bonding, Gen, Magic, Manipulation, Political Alliances, Post-War, Reincarnation, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, but still working within the general rules of the world, dis my passion project sry, i basically created an entire era of hyrule that does not exist canonically...oops!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:21:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25621270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeyfoozle/pseuds/honeyfoozle
Summary: Newfound peace between Hyrule and the desert is threatened when the Master Sword is pulled, an event portending the cyclical battle between Triforce bearers. However, Courage is nowhere to be found. To lessen growing tension, Ganondorf is invited to Hyrule for hasty negations of...peace? He meets Zelda, and her life as Hyrule’s princess is nothing like he expects it to be. Similarly, the large, cocky and infuriatingly calm man chosen as her eternal enemy isn't much like she thought he would be, either.True to preceding incarnations, they hate each other…until they don’t.In a lifetime where they never should have met, Ganondorf and Zelda realize the Goddesses do not care about their puppets. Are they truly blessed by a Higher Power, or just pawns in an eternal game of chess?
Relationships: Ganondorf & Zelda (Legend of Zelda), Ganondorf/Zelda (Legend of Zelda)
Comments: 22
Kudos: 28





	1. Chapter 1 - Wisdom and Power

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A meeting for the eons, our lovely Ganondorf and Zelda size each other up. Let the tension begin.

Zelda straightened at her throne. She fought the urge to smooth her dress and adjust her tiara for the umpteenth time. Outside, the rain had not let up all afternoon. Judging by the howling wind and thwapping of branches against the colorful stain-glass windows, the sun would not make an appearance for quite some time.

From her right, her second spoke.

“Do you wish to retire to dinner, Princess? It’s getting late; I can handle his arrival and you can rest before meeting him tomorrow.”

“No thank you, Impa,” Zelda said. Quite honestly, her anticipation wouldn’t allow her to wait any longer than necessary. Not for this encounter. 

“Are you sure? The rain has surely slowed their travels, perhaps by hours,” Impa said.

“I see what you’re doing,” Zelda smiled. “ _You_ want to be the first to see Power, before myself.”

“You’re overestimating my interest in the Gerudo King,” Impa said, rolling her eyes. “I’m trying to spare you. Inconvenient travels lead to grumpy guests.”

“A little anger won’t hurt anybody. Besides, have I not slain his wrath hundreds of times throughout the eons?”

“I believe you’re forgetting an important part of the puzzle, princess,” Impa grinned at Zelda’s confidence. “Courage and his blade, that is.”

“Who and his what? I’ve not met him in this lifetime,” Zelda said. “So long as the Master Sword sleeps, I’m fit to assume he’s sitting this round out.”

Usually quick to wittily retort, Impa instead stiffened and looked down. “So long as it sleeps, you’re absolutely right,” she said. Zelda frowned.

“Why are you—”

At once, the castle door swung open. Zelda was briefly able to assess the sheets of rain assaulting the stone ground outside. Her attention, however, was quickly drawn to the large man taking strides towards her throne. He lowered his arm—had he really opened that enormous door with one hand? One of the knights assembled around her audibly gulped.

“Is that—”

“Quiet, Viscen, you dimwit,” Impa glared at the young knight. “Of course, it is.”

Zelda did her best to collect herself. Standing, she smoothed her features and straightened her dress. She sized up the man who stood before her, the largest man she had ever seen. Although soaking wet from his travels, he emanated brute strength and—well, Impa was right about possible grumpiness, because he also fashioned a deep scowl.

When he reached the foot of her throne, he did not bow before her. Instead, he stood and stared, golden eyes piercing right through her. For a few beats too long the two assessed each other, and Zelda felt her own features harden to match his. Viscen cleared his throat loudly as the silence went on just a moment too long, snapping the man out of his trance. His frown managed to deepen, brows knit together and arms crossed over a broad chest. 

“Wisdom,” he said finally. If the entire room wasn’t already attentive to his presence, his voice alone would have demanded as much. “I would say nice to meet you, but I was honestly hoping we never would.”

“Power. I’m glad we’re able to agree on that much, at least,” came Zelda’s reply, the bite in her tone balanced by a sweet—albeit forced—smile. She remained standing; if he would deny her a bow, she would deny him a curtsy.

“I do suppose that’s a nice start,” he said, golden eyes shamelessly scanning her form. His expression allowed Zelda no insight into his thoughts. “Good things don’t usually come of our union, do they? We would know.”

“Our ancestors would,” Zelda corrected, uselessly. “But I digress. Welcome to Hyrule; I hope your travels treated you well.”

“They treated me gloriously, as you can tell,” he said, all sarcasm without an ounce of good-natured humor. Sliding his vest off, he made a show of twisting it and wringing it of the rain. Zelda clenched her jaw as water pooled around his boots, seeping into the red carpet he stood on. Acutely aware of his now-bare torso and unwilling to acknowledge it, she turned to Impa.

“Impa, please escort this man to his chambers and get him something to eat. The king will see him first thing tomorrow.”

“You have the nerve to pretend you don’t know my name, now. That’s interesting, Zelda,” the man said, tossing his vest over his shoulder. “And all these guards to protect you, just for my arrival. _Very_ interesting.” Formerly a blank canvas, Zelda now recognized his expression as entirely amused. Should the corners of his mouth lift even the slightest bit more, the man would be smiling.

Her eyes narrowed. _How dare he address me by my first name, at the foot of my throne._ “I’m not sure how things are done in the _desert,_ but—”

“Every woman for herself,” he said, as though it were obvious. 

“—adequate security measures are custom in Hyrule and not unique to your arrival,” Zelda finished, processing the smug grin on his face with as much patience as she could muster. “As for your name, well, I know it as well as you know my title,” she said, plastering another smile onto her face to soften the blow. Disagreeable as he was, Zelda wasn’t interested in completely pissing such a large man off. Judging by the way his face remained more amused than anything, her words hadn’t threatened him in the slightest. 

“Your title, of course,” the man placed a hand on his chest, feigning sincerity. “I do wonder, where would Hyrule be without such a hospitable servant of the king to welcome guests?”

 _Goddess Nayru, grant me the power to smite him,_ Zelda thought. Fists clenched into tight balls at her side, it was all she could do to remain composed.

“It’s just the strangest thing,” the man continued, content to share his stream of consciousness aloud. “I spend years negotiating with Hyrule’s king after the Dark War, building a union between our lands, and there’s scarcely even a _mention_ of you. I wouldn’t be surprised if you still don’t know that—”

“That is enough, Ganondorf,” Zelda snapped. “Like it or not, I am the princess of this land and the bearer of Divine Wisdom. You are a guest on _my_ territory, and I demand your respect. Feigned as it may be.”

“Very well, _princess,”_ Ganondorf said, obvious amusement not once leaving his features. “Although I’m the _king’s_ guest, I’ll play your little game while I’m here. How does that sound?”

Impa’s lips were pressed into a thin line, the likes of someone about to burst into laughter. The knights surrounding her shuffled in their uniforms, far less acquainted with Zelda on a personal level and unable to find anything about the situation entertaining. On the contrary, their fear was evident. One of them looked at Zelda with wide eyes, pleading her to refrain from ordering any sort of military restraint on this giant of a man.

“ _As if you could, anyways,”_ she hissed through her teeth, voice all venom. She felt faint suddenly. Hot.

“If I may, Desert King,” Impa stepped in, red eyes narrow and any trace of mirth vanished. “You’ve come to Hyrule for negations with King Harkinian. You and your subordinates are going to be housed, fed and otherwise taken care of. I’ve heard many great things about your kingship in the desert,” she paused, thinking carefully about her next words, “and a true noble recognizes the importance of respect.”

Ganondorf’s eyes gleamed in fascination, darting between Zelda and her second. He said nothing.

“Take him to his chambers, Impa,” Zelda said for the second time that evening. Before letting her mouth get the better of her—and before she had to endure another wisecrack from Ganondorf—she bunched up her skirts, turned on her heel and left. She regretted not retiring to dinner earlier.

Zelda took long, purposeful strides through the great hall. Blood boiling from the encounter, she paused before entering the dining quarters and attempted a few calming breaths. _You dumb, dumb girl. What else did you expect?_

Ganondorf was a man she had only just met but somehow knew intricately. A man she spent countless lifetimes plotting against. He was exactly how she imagined he would be; enormous, brooding and cocky, with flaming red hair and piercing eyes. He did not appear to be a man acquainted with defeat, that much was certain.

Of course, if it could be helped, there would be no smiting of either parties in the near future. Zelda was quite opposed to the idea, actually, for two main reasons. Deep within the forest, the Master Sword still slept, and Courage was nowhere to be found. Although she joked with Impa, she knew very well that she had no hand in a battle against the Demon King without Courage.

Or perhaps Courage would be sitting this one out. The Goddesses would be playing quite a twisted prank on Zelda if that were the case, setting her up to lose like this.

Her second reason was quite simple. It was the mere fact that Hyrule coexisted peacefully with the desert, and the alliance between them had only recently transitioned from shaky to stable. The Dark War between Hyrule and the Desert ended the very year Zelda was born, and the peace that blossomed from Hyrule's ultimate victory has carefully been attended to through King Harkinian making frequent visits to the desert. The fact that Zelda was always discouraged from tagging along was of little bother to her. Wherever Courage was, Zelda hoped he stayed there.

“Zelda! You look horrible. What happened?” Her father emerged from his dinner and crossed his arms. He took in her appearance and became the second man of the night to fashion a deep scowl at her. “Where is my guest?”

Zelda straightened immediately, combing a hand through her hair and smoothing her dress. “Nothing happened, father. It was humid in the throne room because of the rain. The Desert King went with Impa to his chambers.”

The king eyed his daughter’s disheveled appearance once more before deciding to drop it. “Very well. Come in and eat. Did his travels find him well?”

“He was a little—” Zelda haphazardly gestured to the window, where rain still relentlessly poured outside, “wet.” It didn’t quite answer Harkinian's question, but it was the best Zelda could do without admitting to whatever it was she just experienced. 

Her father raised an eyebrow. “Right. Not a fantastic welcome to our kingdom—and a far cry from the weather he’s used to in the desert, but—”

Zelda interjected. She didn’t have time for small talk. “Yes, father—so, you will meet him first thing tomorrow, yes?”

“Right after lunch,” he confirmed, swirling a wine-filled chalice. He pushed a basket of bread towards her. “I’ll give him an official introduction to the kingdom—hopefully the sun makes an appearance.”

“And before that happens, will you bother to tell me why he’s made this journey to our kingdom in the first place?” Zelda said, ignoring the bread.

The king gave a heavy sigh, as though the thought had been stressing him out very much. “Can this wait, Zelda?”

“It has waited far too long already, don’t you think?”

Another sigh. “Alright,” he said, looking over his shoulder to ensure they were alone. “Listen closely, Zelda. And for the love of Nayru, do not lose your composure at what you’re about to hear.”

“What could you possibly tell me that could make me _lose my composure?”_

She didn’t appreciate the knowing look her father gave her before speaking again. “About a month ago, I sent the special operation knights out to the Lost Woods. No new instructions; nothing different than the normal scouting they do at the turn of each season, anyways. They were to report back to me that the Master Sword was still intact.”

“Of course,” Zelda said. This, she knew. Four times a year, it was reported to her father that the Master Sword had still not been pulled. Four times a year for twenty-two years, since Zelda was marked. At this point, she hardly recognized it as news anymore.

“They—” her father sucked in a breath. “They reported to me that…that the sword has been pulled.”

Zelda felt her blood run cold. Her lips parted to speak but her mouth had gone dry. Heart pounding, she managed her most pressing question. “By who?”

“They searched the entire woods. As much as they could, anyways—it’s not exactly thoroughly mapped out land. They were unable to track down the wielder. Based on some scarce footprints, they’re currently operating under the assumption that Courage is Hylian.”

“Oh, Goddesses,” Zelda breathed, bringing a palm to rest on her now-pallid forehead. She swallowed thickly. “What does—”

“Now, Zelda, remember what I said,” her father glared at her, willing her not to break down. “I will handle everything. If this goes smoothly, you’ll hardly be involved.”

Zelda didn’t like the sound of that. Wouldn’t allow it, even. “You always make me sit out, father. This is something that directly involves me!”

The king stood, the scratch of his chair against the floor making Zelda wince. “So, you think _you_ can negotiate with the Gerudo King yourself? By the Goddesses, Zelda, you are stupid.”

“Stupid?!” Zelda echoed in disbelief. She held up her marked hand as a response, sigil on full display.

“Your unearned claim to authority, of course,” the king said, entirely unimpressed. “That cursed mark is exactly why you need to stay out of this, Zelda. And I mean it.”

Perhaps he had a point there, Zelda mulled. Historically, the bearer of Divine Wisdom and Power did not exactly get along. Even so, the idea that she was to submit to whatever it was her father and _Ganondorf—_ she scowled thinking about that smug, dumb face—wanted, didn’t settle well with her in the slightest.

“Just what are you planning to do, father?” She asked, composing herself if only to get an answer out of him.

“You’re testing me tonight, Zelda. What do you _think_ I’m going to do?!” Harkinian said. His wide, frightened eyes made the desperation of this situation clear.

Before even a beat of silence went by, he spiraled into frantic honesty. Harkinian explained that he invited Ganondorf to Hyrule to keep an eye on his motives, to make hasty negotiations and ensure their political relationship wouldn’t sour due to what he kept referring to as “the cursed boy and his cursed sword.” According to legend, Wisdom and Courage teamed up to take down a corrupt Power and restore peace to Hyrule. Considering this peace currently existed, the king wasn’t interested in changing alliances for the sake of legend.

“In this…cycle, we are going to work with a different dynamic. One that makes much more sense,” Harkinian said, much calmer to now have everything out in the open. He looked smug, proud of himself for figuring all of this out. “You see, my plan is perfect, Zelda. But there is a wildcard that neither the Royal Family nor the desert has control over.”

“Courage,” Zelda said, more to herself than her father.

“Precisely. And if there’s one thing I’ll do as king of this land, it is ensuring that Courage is found, and when he is, he will be killed where he stands. This cursed cycle will end before it even has a chance to begin.”

Any words Zelda had in mind escaped her as she stared at her father, lips parted and eyes wide. She compulsively rubbed the sigil on her hand. The king stared into the fireplace before them, pupils reflecting the licking flames. If Zelda did have anything to say, she’s certain he would not have heard it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would love to hear what y'all think of this uhhh...situation I've come up with. love it? hate it? disgusted that I love me some zelgan? it's all good here


	2. Chapter 2 - Sealed with Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dicey Hylian magic is introduced. An important lie is told. The Hunt begins.

Slender fingers guided the needle through the canvas, threading a deep purple fabric through an otherwise blank embroidery hoop. Zelda was stationed in the Great Hall, perched on a velvet armchair that overlooks the Royal Gardens. When the needle pricked the tip of her finger, she fought the urge to curse.

“I take it you forgot your thimble,” Impa said, taking out a handkerchief to attend to the bead of blood forming on her index finger.

“Lost it,” Zelda frowned. “I’ve never enjoyed this mundane craft.”

That much was clear, considering she had not made it but three stitches before discarding the canvas, needle and thread to the floor. Impa raised a thin, silver brow.

“I wonder, then, why you’ve been rushing around all morning to complete your duties. It surely wasn’t so you could practice your embroidering for the remainder of the day.”

At the sound of approaching voices, Zelda hushed her second.

“Stay here, Impa. Do not follow me, please.”

King Harkinian and his court of nobles entered the hall through the same wing Zelda sat in, bellowing laughter silencing any conversations within their vicinity.

“King Dragmire, I cannot think of a better way utilize a nest of angry sand hornets,” her father managed, leaning on his knee for support. His nobles were equally hysterical, and Zelda wasn’t sure whether to be relieved that Harkinian was in a good mood or annoyed that Ganondorf was in such great favor with him.

For her own sake, Zelda chose to react according to the former.

Standing, she strode towards the group of men with her hands behind her back. Ganondorf noticed her first, golden eyes gleaming with the same calm amusement he wore at the foot of her throne last night.

“Good afternoon, Princess,” he said with a gentle smile. To Zelda’s surprise, the large man lowered himself down on one knee in a swift genuflect. _Sucking up in front of father, I suppose,_ she thought, though she smiled sweetly. 

“King Dragmire,” she curtsied, mentally chastising herself of the very same offense.

“Zelda, dear, what are you doing?” Harkinian asked, though his tone did not sound tense. He was clearly enjoying his morning, and Zelda’s intrusion was not enough to set him off. “Have you finished your prayers for the day?”

“I woke up extra early to get them done, father.”

“Done your readings?”

“I finished everything, father,” Zelda said, keeping her tone light but hoping he would cease going through her mundane routine in front of the most powerful men in the kingdom. Ganondorf never once took his eyes off her, and although she did not return his gaze, she felt it like a dagger in her side.

Harkinian stared at her expectantly, and Zelda took a deep breath to steel her nerves.

“I was hoping, father, that I could participate in your meeting with King Dragmire. Right now.”

Silence. Zelda didn’t dare look at the nobles surrounding her father, certain her question killed the joyous mood she had approached them in. Zelda lowered her eyes, awaited what she knew was coming.

“Now, Zelda,” Harkinian began, tone still light but carrying an unmissable air of finality. “I’m certain you understand that is not possible.”

“But father, the issue at hand is related to a newly awakened piece of the Triforce. As someone marked by the Goddesses, I believe I have the right to engage.”

“I said no, Zelda. You must stay out of this. And I’m disappointed that you bring this up now, in front of my council.”

“But father, this matter directly relates to me.” Zelda said, voice rising. She did not address the latter part of his statement; admittedly, she went into this hoping that causing a scene in front of his court would make Harkinian more likely to bend in her favor.

“It has nothing to do with you, Zelda. Nothing at all,” Harkinian’s eyes narrowed at his daughter. He stood tall, unwavering in the face of Zelda’s escalating emotions.

“How can you—"

“You think you are entitled to input on crucial decisions just because of that _mark_ on your hand, but you are too stubborn to accept the fact that you are a liability here, not an asset.”

Before Zelda could retort, Harkinian’s advisor stepped forward, a short man named Rusl. Efficient at his job but did not care much for anyone with less political pull than him. Throughout his time in Harkinian’s court, it became clear he did not view Zelda as a threat, and therefore she went routinely unacknowledged by him.

Until now, as he gave her a condescending smile.

“Your grace,” he said. “This is a matter of your safety, which the King prioritizes. We all do.”

“I can handle myself,” Zelda said, not bothering to mask the bite in her tone.

“You can, Princess…within your own realm,” Rusl said, tiptoeing over his words. “Since you are done with your tasks for today, why not help the chambermaids with the new tapestry set to hang in the Chapel? You are a fine embroiderer.”

Zelda’s last shred of patience snapped. Behind her back, her finger still bled from the needle. She threw Impa’s handkerchief to the ground and reached above her head, bloodied finger pointed directly towards the ceiling.

 _“Et nunc mitte Nayru,”_ she chanted, feeling incredible power surge through her veins. Zelda closed her eyes, sighed a breath of relief as the spell materialized exactly how she intended it to. Meanwhile, the men’s eyes widened as a sturdy forcefield encased them, unpleasant waves of magic coursing through the encasement. Upholding the spell required a significant amount of energy, and it was easily felt by those entrapped in it.

The force field dulled Zelda’s senses, as though her company was miles away instead of mere inches. She found her voice after a few seconds of adjustment.

“It is proven. It is the will of the Goddesses that I assist in this matter.”

“Augh—have you gone crazy?” Harkinian yelled, though he sounded like he was underwater.

“I summoned Nayru and She came to me,” Zelda said, the drop of blood making its way down her finger, across her palm and onto her arm. “She would not have come had she not agreed with my intentions.”

“Zelda, you dispel this immediately—”

“Not until you agree to my terms,” Zelda said, feeling euphoric, in charge for once in her life. Try as they might, no one would be able to break her spell with their magic. _The mark you belittle so much makes my spells more powerful than yours in every way,_ Zelda thought with a smile. She spread her fingers as magic coursed from her veins to the sphere around them. As if to prove her strength, she pulled the walls in, just enough to escalate the uncomfortable vibration of her spell. 

Unlike the quivering Hylians, Ganondorf stood tall, entirely unaffected by the pulses of concentrated magic. He frowned, contemplating something before moving freely to stand next to Zelda. Through the blurred chaos, no one noticed him bend down and whisper in her ear.

“Silly girl, dispel your trick immediately and I will bargain for your audience in the meeting,” he said. His breath tickled her ear and despite the firm request, his tone was calm. 

“I do not need _your_ help,” Zelda said, thoroughly taken aback. “I am content with assistance from the Goddesses instead.”

“Unlike Them, you won’t owe me for this favor,” Ganondorf said, and his expression quickly went from calm to decidedly disapproving. Zelda resisted the urge to wince under his piercing gold eyes. Turning away, she filed her most pressing thought away for another time. _How would he know the laws of Conviction Magic?_

“Alright, alright, you win—augh!” Harkinian gave in before Zelda could respond. “Now relinquish your Connection—”

Satisfied, Zelda detached from her channel with Nayru. As the force field dissipated, Harkinian’s men crumbled around her, all of them panting and sweating as though they had run a hundred miles. All them, except Ganondorf. 

Rusl was the first to stand. “How can you appease her so easily, Harkinian? This was a complete display of insubordination!”

“While I fully condemn the manner in which Zelda performed her magic, the Goddesses have spoken,” Harkinian said. He trembled as he found his footing, and Zelda _almost_ felt bad for her disturbance. “May They bend to our will next time, and recognize my daughter’s utter ignorance,” he finished with a frown.

Almost.

No one knew what to say. Harkinian looked at his daughter with thinly veiled wrath, furious he could not argue with her display. His forehead was decorated with pearls of sweat, cheeks were rosy and chest heaved as he fought to catch his breath. Zelda pushed her shoulder blades together and stared right back. Finally, she found her voice. 

“Thank you, father.”

The meeting itself was surprisingly mundane, though Zelda dared not show boredom. The tension caused by her outburst never fully died down, but Harkinian’s court seemed willing enough to pretend it never happened in the name of productivity. Their act was hard to buy, considering their irritability and disheveled appearances. Nevertheless, once they left the Great Hall and entered the conference room, Zelda’s spell was no longer a pressing topic of conversation.

Ganondorf was quick to sit down next to Zelda and otherwise unnervingly quiet. He rolled his eyes as the Hylian-size chair groaned under his weight but politely declined Harkinian’s offer to scout for something bigger. He listened attentively as Harkinian discussed the matters at hand but offered few original thoughts of his own. Zelda found his close presence quite distracting. Irritating, really. She discreetly scooched her chair as far away from him as he could, a play he picked up on immediately and responded to with a low chuckle. 

_Insufferable man,_ Zelda thought. She turned her attention to Harkinian and blocked out all thoughts of the Gerudo next to her.

Up until now, news of the Master Sword being pulled had only reached higher-ups in both the desert and Hyrule. Common folk and adjacent rulers were unaware of this potentially chaotic situation. Therefore, the news would need to be relayed throughout all corners of Hyrule. Search parties made up of Gerudo warriors and Hyrulean knights would be essential in both the deliverance of this news as well as “The Hunt” itself, a phrase Harkinian coined himself and that made Zelda scrunch her nose in disapproval.

“You understand Courage is our prey, Zelda,” Harkinian said, taking note of her sudden discomfort. “The Goddesses helped you get to this meeting, but you are not running it. Nor will you make any important decisions.”

“I know, father,” Zelda said, biting her tongue before she begged him to speak in more humane terms. “To be clear, I do believe Courage must be caught. He could cause disastrous trouble.”

“There is the risk of common folk taking pity on him in the name of legend,” Ganondorf spoke suddenly, ignoring the brief exchange between Zelda and her father. “If that happens, they might hide him from our scouters.”

“Indeed,” Harkinian said, putting a thoughtful finger to his mouth. “We will offer a large sum of rupees in exchange for Courage, dead or alive.”

“I would much prefer him alive, Harkinian,” Ganondorf said with a smirk.

 _Alive?_ Zelda thought, remembering the grim conversation she had with her father by the fire. _Courage will be found and killed where he stands,_ Harkinian had said _._ She frowned and opened her mouth to speak.

“But I thought—”

Harkinian’s eyes widened as he too realized the discrepancy, hastily cutting Zelda off.

“Of course, King Dragmire. After all, I am happy to pawn the boy off to you in exchange for your help in this matter.” He shot a meaningful glance at Zelda, so subtle that only a daughter could pick up on it. Zelda understood and kept her mouth shut. _Welcome to politics, you dumb girl. Your father is sleazy and playing everyone in the room._

The question was, which promise did he intend to follow through on?

The rest of the afternoon went without a hitch, and Zelda breathed a sigh of relief when the meeting ended at dusk. Her typical, mundane duties did not work her brain nearly as hard as this subject had. As the hours ticked by and the plan for The Hunt was further developed, Zelda reflected on her reign. On just how many important meetings she had begged to be a part of, only to be harshly rejected by her father. On how many of her days were filled with prayer, and studying, and embroidery. On just how little impact she had in Hylian diplomacy. 

As Harkinian and his court made their way to the dining hall, a large hand grabbed her arm. 

“Hey!” She yelped as the force tugged her back into the conference room. Ganondorf sat her down and leaned against the door, leaving no room for escape. Zelda narrowed her eyes.

“If you have something to say, you don’t need to grab me like a _barbarian—”_

“You’re in over your head,” he said simply. He didn’t look angry or accusing. He stated it as a fact, looking down at her with calm eyes.

 _“You_ have no idea what you’re talking about,” Zelda said. She crossed her arms and frowned. Who was he to act like he knew anything about her? Ganondorf only sighed and shook his head.

“Silly girl, your daddy was right. This will go much smoother if you stick to your embroidery and let the kings handle everything,” he said. He had the unmistakable air of someone who had just proven their own point, and it made Zelda’s stomach lurch.

“You should know better than to underestimate me, Power,” she said with calm fury. “Is it not arrogance regarding your counterparts that has led to your demise, time and time again?”

“Context, Zelda. You are nothing like your past selves. Much more…sheltered. Fragile.”

“I am _not_ —”

“And you should keep it that way,” Ganondorf said, tone firm and unwavering. His eyes briefly flashed with something Zelda couldn’t pinpoint. It couldn’t have been jealousy, could it?

“If you are so quick to count me out, why offer to lobby for my audience in the meeting?” Zelda asked out of genuine curiosity. She recalled the way Ganondorf whispered in her ear, commanding her to dispel her charm. The strange bargain had not left her thoughts since that morning. 

He smirked. “I’m surprised _that_ is your most pressing question regarding our interaction.”

“It is a reasonable thing to inquire about,” Zelda defended, frowning at his amusement. _What would it take to wipe that dumb, smug contentment off of his face?_

“For someone with Divine Wisdom, you are disappointing. Though, I’m sure you’re used to hearing that by now,” Ganondorf said. To Zelda’s dismay, he opened the door and began making his way down the Great Hall.

“Excuse me!” She cried, leaping out of her chair to trail him. “That is no way to end a conversation.”

He took large, confident strides. Zelda’s pride—and heels—would not allow her to jog to keep up with him, so she contented herself to a brisk walk in his shadow.

“You have no idea why your little spell didn’t affect me at all, do you?” Ganondorf spun around suddenly to ask the question, and Zelda all but collided with his torso. He grabbed her wrists to steady her.

“I—” Zelda said, flustered. She recalled the way Ganondorf stood tall within her spell, the way he moved freely while the other Hylians were completely overwhelmed by it. “I believe it…had to do with…”

Her incoherent blathering was answer enough, and Ganondorf let out a bellowing laugh.

“My, my, silly girl. That is _very_ interesting.”

He let her wrists drop to her side and turned away. This time, as he strode out of the Great Hall, he did not look back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments are always appreciated! :) thanks for reading!
> 
> so.....why did Zelda's spell not work on Ganondorf??? any guesses?


	3. Chapter 3 - Mount Lanayru

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zelda repays her guiding Goddess for the help. Harkinian drags everyone to the top of Mount Lanayru with the hopes of gaining information about Courage. Spoiler: it doesn’t go as planned.

_Zelda’s arms and legs flailed as she fell into the abyss. He hands clamored for something, anything to stop her plummet into the place she feared most. She did not scream but instead screwed her eyes shut, willing herself to wake up, wake up, wake up. But she knew she wouldn’t. She knew couldn’t._

_She hit the ground with a thud. Forcing her eyes open, Zelda took in the scenery around her with dreadful familiarity. A black expanse of sky littered with glowing, purple clouds. Uneven stone ground below her that stretched into a narrow, jagged pathway. If Zelda were to walk this pathway, it would quickly cut off at a steep cliff. And if she stood as close to the ledge as she could, if she stretched her arms out as far as they could go, she would_ almost _be able to touch it._

_Suspended in midair, the large triangle illuminated everything in its radius with a brilliant golden hue._

_It had been a long time since Zelda visited the Sacred Realm. Last time, only two segments shone. Now, each of the three parts glowed in harmony, so ferociously that her skin tingled where the blinding light of the Triforce grazed it._

_For an ordinary person, the sight of such great power might ignite a fierce desire to approach it, to understand it, to obtain_ _it for themselves. But Zelda did not stand. She trembled where she sat, ran fidgeting fingers through her long hair and prayed this would be over quickly._

 _From the depths of the black sky, a woman with long blue hair and unreadable grey eyes approached her. Zelda swallowed. Rising to her feet, she forced her jaw to unclench._ You’ve done this before, _she thought to herself._ Do not waver.

_The woman held a vial containing a single drop of blood._

_“You summoned Me,” she said._

_“Goddess Nayru,” Zelda bowed, kept her head down as she spoke. “You bent to my will, even though I am unworthy. I will not let you down.”_

_“Nonsense, I do not mark unworthy bodies,” she stated, more as a fact than a compliment. “Now get up. Look at me.”_

_Zelda did as she was told. Lifting her head, she stared at the Goddess before her. Nayru’s head was cocked to the side, the corner of her mouth tugged up in a playful smirk._

_“You are a good vessel, girl. You made things interesting, calling on me like that,” Nayru said. “I do not want to harm you. But you see…”_

_“I am indebted to you,” Zelda said. This was not news to her. If she believed she could have persuaded her father to include her in The Hunt without divine intervention, she would not have cast her spell in the first place. But here she was, and she understood the consequences of her decision._

_Nayru clicked her tongue. “So is the harsh truth of Conviction Magic. A truth you must bear alone.”_

_Ganondorf’s words rang in her ears:_ “Unlike Them, you will not owe me for this favor.” _Clearly, Zelda did not bear this truth alone. Somehow, Ganondorf knew._

_She briefly wondered if he had ever been into the Sacred Realm. If he had ever sacrificed his own blood for a favor. She concluded that he probably never needed to; as King of the Gerudo and no overbearing father to speak of, a sense of importance was handed to him on a silver platter the very day he was born. Resorting to such drastic magic would be unnecessary._

_Reeling her envious thoughts back in, Zelda chose not to comment on Nayru’s oversight. Instead she cast her gaze to her bare feet, focused on the how the cold stone ground felt beneath them._

_She felt a cold hand brush against her cheek before tangling itself into her hair. Zelda shuddered. What would she owe to amuse her Goddess this time?_

_“Cut it,” Nayru said, handing her a dagger._

_Zelda did not hesitate._

She jolted awake with a gasp, chest heaving. Sitting up, Zelda grimaced as her sweat-slicked skin stuck to the bed linen. She swung her legs off the bed, heart hammering in her chest. Toes buried into the soft wool rug, grounding her. Fingers trembled as she ran them through her hair, now chopped just above her shoulder.

A small price to pay, considering.

The rising sun decorated her room with an orange glow. _It’s over now,_ she thought with a small smile. _And enough to please Nayru for some time, I hope._ Content, Zelda got up and began readying herself for the day ahead. As she braided her short hair, she thought of what to tell her father, should he bother to ask about it.

A few hours later, Zelda shifted atop her steed with a small grunt. Leave it to Harkinian to remain adamant about her riding sidesaddle. _The ritual requires your white ceremony dress, Zelda. Don’t be difficult,_ he had said when she appeared to the stables dressed in trousers and a peasant blouse. Zelda huffed, ignoring the amused look from Ganondorf, before shamefully retreating to her room to change.

In truth, Zelda was not surprised when her father failed to give her chopped hair a second glance. His indifference to anything appearance-related was decidedly welcome. Less lying involved.

Ganondorf, of course, had noticed immediately. He expertly waited until all backs were turned to twirl a loose strand around his finger. He had the smug expression of someone who just cracked an impossible code.

“Cute,” he had said, though it didn’t sound much like a compliment. Rather, it was a subtle acknowledgement that Zelda’s new style was not a product of her own will.

“Do not touch me,” she said, swatting his hand away. 

Now, the group continued their slow ascent up Mount Lanayru. The morning sun drifted to its peak and welcomed a sunny, pleasant afternoon. The other women in Zelda’s company straddled their mounts: Impa, of course, and a Gerudo woman who introduced herself as Nabooru. She was Ganondorf’s second in command.

“I didn’t even know it was possible to ride a horse that way,” she said, giving Zelda a once-over. “Seems inconvenient.”

“It is more functional than it looks,” Zelda defended, though she completely agreed with the red-haired woman. Nabooru shrugged and gave a hesitant nod that said, _if you say so._ It made Zelda feel oddly insecure.

Next to her, Ganondorf poorly suppressed a laugh. She craned her head up to glare at him, but he didn’t so much as glance in her direction. On the contrary, he looked confident and purposefully unaware of Zelda’s annoyance.

“I’m imagining my warriors riding into battle like that,” he said to Nabooru, smirking. “ _That_ would be entertaining.”

“I’m imagining you falling off your horse and breaking an arm,” Zelda grumbled, so low she was certain Ganondorf couldn’t hear her.

“Princess, easy,” Impa shot her a disapproving look. The Sheikah _were_ known to have almost superhuman senses.

Thankfully, the Gerudo were not. If Ganondorf was privy to the brief exchange between Zelda and her second, he didn’t make it obvious. Instead, he was content to continue doing what he did best: getting under Zelda’s skin.

“I’m just saying, it looks ridiculous,” Ganondorf responded to something Nabooru had said, shrugging. “Then again, she doesn’t seem to care much for her appearance anyways.”

He eyed her hair as if to prove his point, and Zelda’s composure snapped.

“Oh, _you’re_ one to talk, you—"

“Princess, don’t listen to him,” Nabooru said. She sounded bored, entirely used to dealing with the aftermath of Ganondorf’s crassness. “Quite honestly, he is the most obnoxious ruler the Gerudo tribe has seen in centuries.”

The dig didn’t seem legitimate, though. A rehearsed way, perhaps, of saying _it’s just the way he is, deal with it._ An outsider could even suspect it was good-natured, judging by the way Ganondorf ducked his head down and smiled.

“You hurt me, Nabooru,” he said, clutching a hand to his chest.

Zelda frowned, wondering what it possibly took to set him off. She couldn’t imagine her father’s court joking around with him like that. Since the stormy night he arrived, Ganondorf failed to appear anything other than amused. 

“Your grace,” Impa’s voice cut into Zelda’s thoughts. “We’ll be at the summit in less than a mile. Would you like to rest beforehand?”

Harkinian trailed ahead of everyone, a decision he made early on in the journey when the passive aggressive bantering between Zelda and Ganondorf began.

“Hm? No, of course not,” he said. “The sooner this is over, the better.”

“Agreed,” Zelda said firmly, ignoring the exasperated look Impa gave her.

By the time they reached the top of Mount Lanayru, it was still early afternoon. Zelda slid off her steed as soon as she could, grumbling about her wrinkled ceremony gown. As if on cue, the sigil on her hand began to glow. From the corner of her eye, she saw Ganondorf admire his own mark. She wondered if he, too, felt incredible power surging through his veins.

“Hylia senses your presence,” Harkinian said, giddy. “I knew this would work.”

Zelda took in the familiar geography; she had been here before. Further up the summit stood a rocky incline that leads to the Spring of Wisdom, a crystal-clear body of water rumored to contain vast healing properties and even the potential for immortality. According to legend, anyone who dares to steal from it would be smote by the Goddesses for their greed.

Just beyond the water’s edge sits a small cavern formed by old, weathered rock. Within this alcove rests the group’s entire reason for trekking up Mount Lanayru: a statue of Hylia. The oldest yet most well-preserved one in the kingdom, it is said to be chiseled by the Goddesses Themselves.

“I am hopeful for today,” Harkinian said, addressing Zelda and Ganondorf. “You two are most favored by the Goddesses. Praying at the Spring of Wisdom, of all places, is bound to give us some answers about Courage.”

Ganondorf’s mouth twitched. “I don’t exactly pray, Harkinian.”

It was the first time Zelda had ever seen him appear remotely uncomfortable. He looked at Harkinian with knowing eyes, as though this should not be news to him. Harkinian only shook his head.

“The Gerudo people do not pray, I am aware. However, you are not only Gerudo, but you are marked by the Goddesses. It is your duty to pray.”

“I do not know how,” Ganondorf said. His voice was thin, urging heavily at something not said.

Harkinian turned to Zelda. “He does not know how to pray! This is a group of people that have turned their backs on the Goddesses entirely, my dear. Oh, if you only knew…”

Zelda wasn’t sure how to respond. For all the teasing she had endured from Ganondorf thus far, this was her first chance to have the upper hand. However, her father openly insulting Gerudo culture did not sit right. Therefore, instead of utilizing her chance to deride him, Zelda only shifted her eyes between the two men and said nothing.

To Zelda’s surprise, Ganondorf did not defend himself. He just glared at Harkinian, golden eyes dancing with words unspoken. 

“Very well,” Harkinian said finally. He looked satisfied, as though he’d won both their verbal and silent conversation. “Zelda will teach you, then.”

A few minutes later, Zelda led Ganondorf to the small cliff and ushered him to climb up first. He looked back and forth between the jagged incline and her heels before making a split-second decision.

“Put me down!” Zelda shrieked as he threw her over his shoulder and began his ascent, one strong arm pinning her thighs to his chest. Her hands tightened into fists and she pounded them into his back.

“As if you could have climbed this in that dress,” he drawled. _“And_ kept your modesty. You Hylians make things so needlessly complicated.”

Zelda, realizing her efforts were futile, gave up on thrashing around. Instead she rested her hands on Ganondorf’s shoulder to give her upper body some leverage, craning her neck to stare at the back of his head.

“Do you want me to teach you how to pray, or not?” she asked.

“Not at all, actually.”

Zelda fought the urge to cry out in frustration. So much for having any advantage over him. Completely helpless in his clutches, she felt more idiotic in his presence than normal—and that was saying something. Her anger suddenly came back with a vengeance. _Aligning with my morals or not, the next time I have a chance to rip into him, I’m going to take it,_ she thought.

Without realizing it, she had dug her nails into his bare shoulder as thoughts of utterly belittling him overcame her.

“Aren’t we feisty,” he said at the sensation. “Relax, I’m not going to hurt you. And trust me, you aren’t going to hurt me.” 

Two large hands secured themselves on her hips and gently lowered her to the ground. Zelda kept her arms crossed tight over her chest, making a point to look at anything but his face.

“I’m waiting,” he said in an almost sing-song voice.

“I am not thanking you for grabbing me like a brute,” she said with a huff. She made a show of dusting herself off, communicating that any essence of him disgusted her. “I did not need your help.”

“Have fun climbing down, then, silly girl.”

“Stop _calling_ me that.”

Zelda eventually swallowed her pride and led him to the kingdom-renown statue. Through her annoyance, she couldn’t help but spare a few seconds to admire it. Common folk made many pilgrimages to this statue of Hylia, and its magnificence never failed to inspire awe within even Zelda. It stood ten feet tall, so detailed that one could make out individual strands of Her hair.

Ganondorf did not look impressed in the slightest, but at least had the decency to keep his mouth shut.

“This is where you pray,” Zelda said, gesturing to the small pond at the foot of the statue. It contained water from the Spring of Wisdom and carried all of the same mystical properties. However, given its location—directly below the statue’s outstretched arms—the pond was also believed to be enriched by blessings from Hylia Herself.

“I’ll have to get wet, then,” is all Ganondorf gathered from this, entirely nonplussed. 

Zelda glared at him. “You may watch me pray first. Goddesses knows you will need all of the help I can offer. Stand over there, please.”

Ganondorf ignored her dig and strolled to the entrance of the cavern, hands stuffed into his pockets. Content to have some privacy, Zelda lowered herself into the pond. The water reached just above her hips and she took a moment to adjust to the sting of coolness. Taking a deep breath, she intertwined her fingers and brought them to her chest.

Zelda closed her eyes and recited an ancient prayer of beckoning. She felt Ganondorf’s gaze on her as she spoke to Hylia for guidance. The sigil on her hand glowed, burned even, but Zelda continued to pray. She became aware of the flow of the water, the pulse of her blood, the thin ray of sunlight peeking through the small cavern opening and dancing on her bare shoulder. Swaying back and forth in rhythm with the universe, Zelda felt her soul begin to soar.

Ten minutes turns into thirty, and before she knew it Ganondorf was shaking her out of a deep trance.

“Hey,” he said in a surprisingly soft voice. “Look, I’m not trying to interrupt anything. But you’ve been in here for two hours.”

Zelda’s eye’s snapped open. “What?!” She cried, frantically looking around. She jerked her shoulder out from under his touch. “I didn’t—I w-wasn’t finished—”

“Calm down,” Ganondorf said, any trace of softness gone from his features. “I wasn’t going to intervene, but you started crying for help. It was annoying.”

“What?” Zelda said again, much quieter this time. As she grounded herself, she realized her heart was pounding. She touched her puffy eyes, wiped her tear stained cheeks. Her mind buzzed; _what in the world just happened to me?_

“Does this always happen when you pray?” Ganondorf asked. He did not look concerned about Zelda’s disoriented mien. He looked—Zelda scowled— _amused._ As though this little display proved to everyone exactly why he chose not to pray.

She did not answer his question. Instead, mustering up as much dignity as her situation would allow, she lifted her dress and stepped out of the water.

“Hylia did not come to me today,” she said, back turned to him. “For my father’s sake _only,_ I hope you achieve a better outcome.”

“Can’t wait,” Ganondorf said under his breath, but he wasn’t going to refuse what Harkinian asked him to do.

Zelda didn’t see the dull, _I-can’t-believe-I’m-doing-this_ glance her gave her as he stepped into the water. It barely reached his knees, eliciting an eye roll and resounding sigh. He decided instead to sit down and cross his legs, looking more like a monk than a king.

“Anything I should start with?” Ganondorf asked through his teeth, eyes closed almost serenely. His tone did not attempt to hide a total lack of enthusiasm.

“Not really,” Zelda said, suddenly too tired to think of a spiteful response. “You may pray out loud or in your head. Tell Hylia why you are here and how you wish for Her to help.”

She retreated to the entrance of the cave to grant him some privacy. She rubbed at her eyes, drying the remaining tears. This was not the first time she had slipped into a trance while praying, but it was the first time she did not remember anything about it. The first time she felt completely out of control. Everything between chanting her beckoning prayer and being shaken back to reality by Ganondorf was a complete and utter blur.

And the fact that she had been crying and asking for help? She did not trust a word Ganondorf said but had little reason to doubt this claim. Her stomach tightened as she imagined how weak she must have appeared in her confusion. As things stood, Ganondorf had quite a collection of embarrassing moments to refer back to, should he feel like degrading Zelda’s already-fragile sense of honor. 

What an egotistical, pompous _oaf_ he was—

A fierce rumbling beneath Zelda interrupted her thoughts. She gasped as the cave began to shake, bits of rock crumbling off of the walls. The quake became too powerful and she lost her footing, collapsing onto her hands and knees. Shards of stone dug into her skin as she wobbled atop the convulsing ground, and she instinctively covered her head with her hands.

A loud _crack_ rang out, at which the quaking immediately stopped. Zelda trembled, waited a few seconds before lifting her head to take in the scene around her.

Nothing could have prepared her for what she saw.

The first thing Zelda noticed was that the famous statue of Hylia had…all but exploded. At the least, it was decapitated, a chiseled head lying at its feet and a beautifully sculpted body riddled with deep cracks.

The second thing Zelda noticed was Ganondorf, still sitting crossed legged in the pond. She was about to blame this atrocity on a natural disaster, perhaps an earthquake, before she noticed the water around him.

It was completely black, with dark tendrils of shadow rising out of it. 

Zelda screamed; a resounding shriek she hoped the others would hear. Backing herself into a corner, she scanned for the sharpest shard of rock in her vicinity.

“You—what kind of monster _are_ you?!”

Ganondorf got out of the water, hastily shushing her. The pond instantly returned to its serenely clear appearance.

“Zelda—Goddesses damn it all—this isn’t what it appears to be. I am not—not Demise reincarnate, or whatever it is you’re making up in your head right now.”

Zelda wasn’t having it. The closer he approached her, the further into the cave wall she pressed herself. She held a large stone in one hand, ready to throw at him should he take another step. Understanding this, Ganondorf put his hands up and remained still.

“I could smite you right now,” she said, voice quivering. “I could call on the Goddesses right this second and do it.”

“Perhaps you could,” Ganondorf said in a hushed voice. “But, Wisdom, if I know anything about you, it is that you would prefer the full story before making any rash decisions.”

Clever man, addressing her like that. Zelda lowered her makeshift weapon; very slightly, but just enough for Ganondorf to catch onto. It was a small opening, but it would do for his purposes.

“I will not swear on your cursed Goddesses,” he said, daring to inch a little bit closer. “But I promise on my own life that I have no intentions to hurt you.”

Zelda’s eyes bore into his. Ganondorf looked calm, all things considered, and his gaze was steady. Perhaps even honest. His knees were bent so he did not tower over her, and his arms were raised high in the air. When he spoke again, it was above his breath, so light and soft she could hardly hear him.

“There is a reason this happened.”

“Of course, there is,” Zelda said with conviction. “You have evil intentions and I cannot trust you, nor can my father and nor can Hyrule!”

Ganondorf gave a heavy sigh. He looked as though he was used to hearing that or, at the very least, expected to hear it at some point.

“Everything you have been taught, Zelda, it is all a lie.”

She said nothing. A mighty claim that was, and he would have to explain himself. Ganondorf continued.

“The Dark War, what do you know about it?”

Zelda narrowed her eyes at him. Why give her a history quiz while Hylia’s decapitated head was a mere ten feet behind him? She humored him, largely out of fear. 

“A 15-year war between Hylians and Gerudo. It began because Hyrule threatened to annex the desert.”

“That’s what you’ve been taught, huh,” he muttered. “And how do you suppose it ended?”

“My…my father. When I was born, he created a peace treaty, an agreement between our lands,” Zelda said, wavering confidence evident in her gradually rising inflection. 

Ganondorf looked grim—physically pained, even. He crouched down, holding his head in his hands.

“If you think your father created _peace,_ then you are a fool. A brainwashed fool. And a waste of the Triforce itself.”

“How _dare_ you talk to me like that,” Zelda sneered, pushing herself away from the wall. She pointed an accusing finger at him. “And how dare you talk about my father like that! You suck up to the king and his court throughout your entire visit and then have the audacity to speak such words behind his back. This is treason.”

“Treason!” Ganondorf echoed in disbelief. “If you only _knew_ the truth, Zelda, I—” He looked like he had the wind knocked out of him. Entirely speechless, more so than Zelda ever thought she would see him. His golden eyes were unhinged, wide and furious as they bore into her.

His cool demeanor had completely snapped, and it was a ferocious sight. And yet, the rapid heaving of his chest suggested he was calming himself down. Holding himself back.

“Is something the matter?”

Impa’s commanding voice echoed through the cavern and Zelda breathed a sigh of relief. Her second stood with Harkinian and Nabooru, assessing the scene in front of them with unreadable expressions.

“Oh, great,” Nabooru said as her eyes fell on Hylia’s head. “It’s always something with you, Gan.”

“Father, Impa, look! Her grace exploded!” Zelda said, pointing wildly at the defective statue. “And it is all _his_ fault.”

“Harkinian,” Ganondorf said in a tense voice. “I do believe I made my concerns about praying clear.”

“Oh, dear,” Harkinian hastily brushed past everyone, kneeling down to cup Hylia’s face in his trembling hand. “Oh, this isn’t good. I should have known this could happen…”

Zelda paused at his words. He did not seem angry at Ganondorf; if anything, he seemed to be chastising himself for a personal oversight.

And then it hit her.

The realization that, perhaps, she _was_ in over her head. The realization that her father and Ganondorf often speak in codes around her, hiding something crucial in clear sight. The realization that throughout her life, vast efforts have been made to mold her into a perfect prop. Always the last to know something and never told the full story, Zelda was given _just_ enough power to foster a shallow sense of self-importance, but hardly enough to be of use to anyone.

Abruptly shutting her mouth, she realized any further attempts to scorn Ganondorf over this disaster would do no good. Not when Harkinian looked at him almost…apologetically.

That day, within the cave atop Mount Lanayru, Zelda decided that perhaps she was a fool. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: yeah I'll just make this a simple, kinda fun kinda saucy, chapter
> 
> also me: decides to juggle like three huge plot points and drop major hints that I wasn't going to disclose until later
> 
> also me: literally doesn't edit this hefty ass chapter at all before posting it 
> 
> anyways, thanks all for reading! comments are always appreciated and let's keep this sweet, sweet zelgan train chugging am I right?!


	4. Chapter 4 - Of Shadows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ganondorf is acting different. Rusl makes a concerningly dumb advisor to the king. Zelda begins a personal quest for knowledge, which spirals into doubting everything she ever thought she knew about the world.

Throughout the next few weeks, Zelda avoided Ganondorf at all costs. Upon spotting him, she would turn on her heel and all but run in the other direction. Were they forced into meetings together, Zelda avoided his gaze and pretended he wasn’t there. When Harkinian badgered Zelda to join himself and King Dragmire for dinner, she was armed with a million excuses not to. 

How foolish she had been, to underestimate Ganondorf’s power. The rivalry she felt with him up until now had been shallow; childish even. They didn’t like each other because they weren’t supposed to, right? Certainly not because of any _real_ danger. But since the fateful day atop Mount Lanayru, Zelda felt a lot more than mere annoyance when she thought of the Desert King. She felt...genuinely afraid. Intentional or not, that grim afternoon suggested he was a man of terrifying strength.

She knew Ganondorf sensed the fear. He responded to it by keeping his mouth shut around her. Long gone were his sarcastic remarks and attempts to get under her skin. He played the part of a professional king quite well, and Zelda wondered if it was out of consideration for her trepidation or if he just wanted to suck up to her father. Her gut told her it was the latter.

Aside from the incident, Ganondorf and his women were fairly settled into their life in Hyrule Castle; with the way things were going, Zelda did not foresee them returning to the desert in the near future. Harkinian had made it clear that Power and Wisdom must not be separated until Courage has been found and dealt with. Too much room for miscommunication, tension and conflict. Especially when his whereabouts and motives were completely unknown.

Unfortunately, finding the wielder of the Master Sword was proving to be a much more daunting task than originally anticipated. Despite extensive “wanted” posters littering every village, domain and sect of the kingdom—attached to them the promise of hefty monetary rewards—no legitimate leads had been reported. Search parties were frequently sent throughout the land as well, but to no avail.

Zelda’s prayers proved to be just as futile as the military efforts; tried as she did, she was unable to speak with Hylia for guidance. It was as though the channel between them had been severed. Blocked, at the least. Zelda had far too much going on to become overly concerned about that yet.

Now, her brows creased as she flipped through the pages of yet another useless book.

“It is amazing,” she said to Impa. “I have spent my entire life consuming all the information this library has to offer, yet I now realize how limited its horizons actually are.”

“Perhaps the horizons are limited,” Impa said, leaning against the stone wall behind her. “Or, perhaps, this library purposefully hides the information you seek.”

Zelda gave a thoughtful hum. Based on Ganondorf’s reaction to her stance on the Dark War, it was not out of the question that Hyrule was intentionally covering up the story she sought.

 _So that’s what they taught you, huh?_ His words rang in her head, even still. A reminder of her ignorance. _If you think your father created peace, then you are a fool. A brainwashed fool._

She shook her head, so hard her tiara sat crooked atop it.

“What do you think, Impa? Do you believe they would bury an unpleasant truth?”

Impa looked around to ensure they were alone and spoke in a low voice. “Do I think the kingdom of Hyrule is above hiding a shady past, you mean? My answer to _that_ is a resounding no.”

Hylians were, historically and in Zelda’s real-life experience, an awfully proud race. A sense of superiority practically ran in their blood, and Impa would know it better than anyone. The Sheikah race were essentially _servants_ to them. History, of course, claims that the bond between the two races was formed out of devotion; a consensual pledge of allegiance made by the Sheikah to serve.

This was hundreds and hundreds of years ago. Somewhere along the line, living as guardians to the royal family became a core and accepted part of Sheikah culture. But now, Zelda couldn’t help but wonder the true circumstances of their initial allegiance. Impa’s raised brow suggested she sometimes wondered the same thing.

“To be clear, princess,” Impa said, features softening into a half-smile. She always knew just what Zelda was thinking. “I wouldn’t trade my job for the world.”

Zelda’s heart exploded with fondness for her second. On days like today, she didn’t know what she would do without her.

“It is troubling,” Zelda said after a moment. “I would rather know one true and ugly fact, than one thousand false and pretty lies.”

“That is what makes you so wise.”

Giving up on Hylian literature, Zelda found her way out of the towering bookshelves, scanning the library for the research alcoves. Due to the sheer size of the library and its abundant resources, hand plucked historians were allowed to conduct research and study within it. Considering how often she frequented the library, Zelda had grown acquainted with some throughout the years.

She poked her head into one of the small rooms and smiled when she saw him.

“Shad,” Zelda greeted, curtsying. “I hoped I would find you here.”

A young historian only a few years Zelda’s senior, Shad was not discrete about his soft spot for her. Upon her entrance, he clumsily rose out of his seat to genuflect.

“Princess,” he said, cheeks bright red. “It is always a pleasure.”

“Please, I’ve told you, no need for formalities,” she said. Shad had a tendency to become stiff and nervous in her presence. “What are you reading about?” Zelda walked to the table and took the seat across from him, leaning towards him with friendly eyes.

“Oh, I—,” he swallowed. “I’m reading about Zora medicine. Did you know that healing herbs have no topical effect on them? Their skin is completely poreless, so they actually have to _ingest_ anything for it to absorb—”

“That is extremely interesting!” Zelda interjected, trying to sound enthusiastic. Shad had a tendency to babble around her, as well. Typically, it was quite endearing, but today Zelda found herself with a low tolerance for it. When he snapped his mouth shut, she decided to get straight to the point.

“So, Shad, you travel a lot, yes?”

“As much as I can,” Shad put his book down, leaning back in his chair and giving Zelda his full attention.

“Do you ever collect books from your travels? Books you cannot find within this library?”

“All the time. It gives me a less bias collection of information,” he said, confirming her suspicions easily. “Each sect of this kingdom has a… _unique_ perspective on historical events, you know?”

“Naturally,” Zelda said, folding her hands on her lap. She wasn’t about to admit that the total erasure of history was a fairly new concept to her. “Do you happen to have any books from the desert?”

“I have a few,” Shad said. “Not many, though. It’s hard to come across Hylian-friendly books over there; most documents are written in Naicic.”

“That is a dead language now, is it not?” Zelda asked.

Naicic used to be official language of the Gerudo people. About one hundred and fifty years ago, in the year 575, the desert was struck with a great famine. The vast relocation of Gerudo tribes to neighboring kingdoms nearly halved the desert’s population; it also had a devastating effect on the transmission of culture to younger generations. In order to integrate to life outside of the desert, they had to learn Hylian and adopt an entirely new way of life. In the end, the Gerudo race survived the famine and the desert was eventually repopulated, but it cost them their true language.

“Verbally, yes. However, Naicic is still their prominent written language,” Shad said, pulling out a large bag from underneath the table. “I believe I have something I can lend you, though. In Hylian.” He gave her a boyish smile.

Zelda grinned back, trying to contain her excitement. Now, she wouldn’t have to—

“You’re in close cahoots with King Dragmire, no? Anything within this ratty old book, I’m sure he would be able to recount in much better detail.”

And there it was.

“I do not wish to bother him with my aimless pursuit of knowledge,” Zelda said, mouth a little dry. “This undertaking is merely a personal pastime…nothing politically related.”

Shad shrugged good-naturedly. “Of course. Just thought I would mention it, princess. He was very willing to sit with me for a few hours last week to discuss the riveting concept of rain harvesting.”

Zelda cocked her head. “You’ve…talked with Ganondorf?”

“He frequents the alcoves sometimes, reading about this or that. Between you and me, princess…I was terrified of him at first. But it was truly an invigorating discussion.” Shad beamed, clearly reliving all of the new information he gleaned over again.

“I see,” Zelda said, now eager to retrieve her book and leave.

Clearly, Ganondorf was set on giving every Hylian except for her the time of day. She ignored the way her blood pressure rose ever so slightly when she thought of the man and gave Shad a look of feigned excitement, for his sake. How was he supposed to know Ganondorf was truly an insufferable jerk, anyways?

“Ah, but anyways,” Shad slid a thin book across the table. The brown leather cover was tattered and old, and some of the pages just barely clung to the binding. “This is an interesting book about more recent desert history. Mostly the last hundred years.”

The cover read _Of Shadows and Deceit: A Brief History of the Desert._ Zelda raised an eyebrow at the title but tucked it securely between her waist and arm. Thanking Shad so excessively that his face turned a magnificent shade of red, she left the library with the intent to return to her chambers and dive right into her research.

Zelda maintained a brisk pace as she walked through the courtyard. Her lively steps and pointed heels proved to be an unfortunate combination, however, and she tripped over herself, stumbling onto her hands and knees. The small leather book skidded across the stone pathway, halting at a pair of dark brown pattens. Still on the ground, Zelda watched a pale hand reach down to pick it up.

“Drop something?” Rusl examined the worn leather and poor binding. He frowned when he read the title, lowering his gaze to eye her suspiciously and making no moves to help her up.

“My friend loaned me a book.” Zelda’s words were clipped; she did not feel like conversing with Rusl today. Throughout the past few weeks, his initial indifference to her had transformed into an obvious, intense dislike. She had a strong feeling it was related to her little magic display in the Great Hall.

Now, she slowly stood up and lifted her eyes to meet his. To her greater dismay, she realized Rusl was not alone. Ganondorf stood a few feet back, towering over his shoulder. He eyed the book with intense fascination and discretely offered Zelda a raised brow. If she didn’t know better, she would say he almost looked…pleased.

“King Dragmire, please give us a minute.” Rusl lazily gestured to Ganondorf, sounding annoyed. He obliged easily, excusing himself to stride into the castle without so much as a word.

Zelda hated to admit it, but she would have rather been alone with _him_ than the stumpy man currently standing in front of her, arms crossed and fashioning a deep scowl. This truth left her rather unsettled.

“What business do you have reading this?” Came Rusl’s immediate inquiry.

“No business except my natural pursuit of knowledge,” Zelda answered easily. “Is there a problem with that?”

“There are plenty of books within the castle’s library,” Rusl said. He wasn’t fooled by Zelda’s response. “There’s certainly no reason to seek out filthy desert text.”

Zelda snatched the book from him with a frown. “It is none of your business what kind of text I choose to consume.”

Rusl, however, did not let go of the book. He had an iron grip on it, pulling back so fiercely that Zelda had to swallow a surprised gasp.

“It’s not,” he said in a low voice. “But do you know what is my business? Figuring out just whose side you’re playing for.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Rusl let out a clipped, unamused chuckle. “Harkinian might be content to take the blame for what happened on that mountain, but that’s only because it would be a cold day in Hell before he suspects _you_ had anything to do with it.”

Zelda’s eyes widened. “You…you’re not really saying I—”

“I’m not saying anything.” Rusl released his hold on the book, only to move to her marked hand. He ran a thumb over her sigil, clicking his tongue as he did so.

“You and the Gerudo. You might not like each other, but you’re bound by this. And I have every right to be wary of just how that bond presents itself behind our backs.”

So, Rusl suspected a secret alliance between herself and Ganondorf?

The idea was so outrageous, so utterly out of left field, that Zelda began to laugh despite herself. Hard. So hard that she bent over to seek support from her knees. Rusl looked miffed as he watched her, sighing and tapping his foot while she guffawed at what he initially thought would back her into a corner. 

“I am a little concerned,” she said finally, wiping the corner of her eye. “That my father has chosen such a foolish man to be his advisor.”

Later, Zelda would freely admit to herself that she could have chosen those words better.

“You impudent girl,” Rusl said, scowling. To Zelda’s surprise, he closed the small gap between them and grabbed the neckline of her dress, fisting it in a small, pathetic little hand. “Be careful who you choose to mock.” He gave her a shake as if to prove his point.

“I don’t think that is any way to handle your princess,” came a booming voice from behind him. 

_Ganondorf._

…Ganondorf?

Zelda was not at all threatened by Rusl’s advances, but it was still amusing to observe the way his face instantly paled. He loosened his hold on her and took a skittish step back. Ganondorf looked angry at the display, which Zelda immediately felt annoyed at, considering he had non-consensually manhandled her on multiple occasions.

 _Well, the first time was to stabilize her and the second was to ensure that she safely made it up an incline. It was never threatening, or angry, or—_ Zelda halted her thoughts. In spite of that, she decided to remain annoyed at his presence. She could, after all, handle herself.

“I can handle myself,” she echoed her thoughts instantly, smoothing her dress where Rusl had wrinkled it.

Ganondorf ignored her, turning instead to the man who grabbed her. “I don’t care how Hylian nobles choose to assert their dominance. Maybe this kind of thing isn’t out of line for your moral compass,” he said to Rusl. “But I’m certain Harkinian wouldn’t like what I just saw. Keep your hands off of her.”

 _Shut up, shut up, shut up,_ Zelda mentally screamed. She wished it were possible for Triforce bearers to communicate telepathically, because although Ganondorf had seen their exchange from afar, he clearly had not heard it. Stepping in to defend Zelda like this was only adding fuel to Rusl’s idiotic conviction of their so-called ‘secret alliance’. One glance at Rusl confirmed this fear.

He looked scared, mostly, but there was the unmistakable appearance of gears turning in his head, piecing together what he must have thought was the most brilliant theory of the century. Wrong as he was, he had the air of someone who just cracked an impossible code.

Zelda wasn’t lying about being concerned for her father, and the brains backing his reign. 

“I meant no harm, of course,” Rusl said finally. He had regained his composure and wore an apathetic expression as he addressed the two. “Apologies, princess. I’m not exactly sure what came over me.”

He gave Zelda the book back, pressing it into her palm with a firmness that went unnoticed by Ganondorf. Content with silence as his only answer, he turned on his heel and strode inside, leaving her alone with the Gerudo.

An uncomfortable silence fell over the two, heightened by a strong summer breeze that blew Zelda’s hair into her mouth. She sputtered despite herself, muttered something about needing a hair tie and looked down awkwardly. If Ganondorf expected a thank you, he wasn’t going to get one.

However, Zelda fought the urge to immediately flee the situation; it was the first time they had been alone together since Mount Lanayru and thinking back on the event made her shuffle a bit where she stood.

“It’s an accurate book,” Ganondorf said at last. “You will find it interesting.” His tone was steady; a little gloomy, even.

Zelda refused to meet his eyes. She wasn’t sure why, but she felt a little embarrassed. The information in _Of Shadows and Deceit_ was likely information he learned in bedtime stories as a damn baby. Here she was, 22 years old, with only the most basic understanding of…well, anything.

“Anyways…” Ganondorf frowned, scratching the back of his neck. “I’ll leave you to it.”

With that, he turned to follow Rusl’s exit. There was no trace of amusement, no sarcastic remark and certainly no berating Zelda for her incompetence. He was still calm as ever, but talked to her…cordially?

How strange.

By the time Zelda settled into her desk chair, she had pushed the courtyard events out of her brain. Really, it was just Rusl being Rusl: power hungry and always seeking the upper hand, even if it meant shamelessly grasping at straws. And Ganondorf being…well, completely different than usual, actually. But she didn’t have time to think about that. 

Instead, she spent the evening immersed in the _Of Shadows and Deceit_ , far more riveted by Gerudo history than she would care to admit. More so than immersion, Zelda began to feel a hard, unsettled lump form in the pit of her stomach. Interesting as it was, none of this information would have been available had she continued to browse Hyrule’s inventory of literature only. This wasn’t just a case of rewritten history; some of these concepts had been completely, utterly and deliberately hidden from her. 

The last century of the desert’s history was riddled with some grim happenings. In the year 625, fifty years after the peak of the great desert famine, the majority of Gerudo colonies had made their way back to the homeland. The desert would be repopulated, and an enormous cultural restoration effort would begin. However, as they settled into their land once again, they realized they were not alone.

In the outskirts of the valley, a previously undiscovered race had claimed an entire sect of the desert as their own. They called themselves Interlopers, a group of nomadic sorcerers who traveled frequently but took a liking to the dry heat and hot sands Gerudo Valley offered. Their liking was also, perhaps, fueled by the fact that the desert was all but abandoned when they arrived during the famine.

How they managed to survive in a land that could not provide adequate harvest remains a mystery to this very day. However, they decided not to leave upon the Gerudo tribe’s return.

The Interlopers were seemingly harmless, and for many years they lived alongside Gerudo Valley in harmony. _Of Shadows and Deceit_ spelled out what happened next.

_“Interlopers, talented sorcerers they were, eventually felt such a kinship with the Gerudo tribe that they showed off a magnificent skill to them, a skill they had kept a secret since the dawn of their existence. Interlopers introduced a type of magic not fueled by the three Goddesses, but rather by their own internal energy, conviction and will. A magic that left them a slave to no one. A magic that could, if wielded by the wrong person, in fact make others a slave to them. Throughout history, it is sometimes referred to as Anti-Conviction Magic to demonstrate its contrast to the magic preferred by Hylians. More accurately, however, it is known as Dark Magic.”_

Zelda felt her blood run cold. Her hands trembled as she placed the open book down and released a slow breath. Besides the three tiers of Conviction Magic, she had no idea other forms of wizardry existed. Especially something that sounded so sinister. But then, a wave of foolishness washed over her at this; how could she just assume such a thing? Zelda sighed. _And she was barely halfway through the book._

This meant…did Ganondorf know how to use Dark Magic? That possibility added an entirely new layer to what happened on top of Mount Lanayru, especially when she recalled the tendrils of black shadow seeping out of the pond around him. The thought was enough to make her feel faint, and she brought a hand to her pallid forehead.

The sheer mystery of Ganondorf’s true capabilities once again ignited a deep seeded fear within Zelda, a fear so intense she wondered if it was fueled by her past selves who fought against him. 

The wiser part of her brain managed to calm her breathing before she entered a panic attack. Zelda was being far too hasty with her assumptions. Ganondorf’s reaction to Hylia’s explosion—and her father’s, for that matter—insinuated that the disaster on Mount Lanayru was an unintentional mistake. Even though she didn’t exactly know who to trust, Zelda coupled that fact with the fact that she had not yet finished _Of Shadows and Deceit._ Only when she completed it and knew the full story would a freak-out be warranted.

For now, though, Zelda slipped the tattered book under her pillow. She needed sleep, and lots of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: I want ganondorf and zelda to fall in love :) and kiss and stuff :)
> 
> my brain: you absolute fool. you need more world building and lore that no one fucking cares about
> 
> me: but I've never written a chaptered fic before and idk how to juggle plot points :(
> 
> my brain: here's a timeline of the past 200 years of your world, a royal family tree and a diagram of exactly how each type of magic works
> 
> me: ok ill try-
> 
> my brain: also write an avatar crack fic instead of editing this. because fuck you
> 
> hope this chapter is alright, I know it's kind of an info dump and no sexy zelgan tension. I was actually planning to dump a lot more but we gotta pace it out right??? idk. this is all just spilling out of me, at this point the characters literally have a mind of their own. 
> 
> comments are always cherished and appreciated :) thanks a trillion times over for reading!


	5. Chapter 5 - Courage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group finally receives a legitimate lead regarding Courage’s whereabouts. Ganondorf and Zelda have a conversation where they don’t actively hate each other. A flame is ignited.

_Conviction Magic is made possible through the will of the three Goddesses: Nayru, Farore and Din. Previously wielded kingdom-wide, it is now primarily utilized by Hylians. Individuals who wield Conviction Magic create a divine channel, through which they receive magical abilities._

_There are three tiers to Conviction Magic. The level at which one wields it depends on their social rank. Common folk, merchants and carpenters operate at a novice level and can practice basic healing and blessing spells, faith empowerment and guidance rituals. Nobles can achieve an intermediate skill level; in addition to novice spells, they can perform spiritual purification, exorcisms and low-level theurgy. Royalty are able to master Conviction Magic. Mastery encompasses all of the magic from lower levels but in addition, these individuals are able to achieve Divine Communication, Divine Empowerment and Divine Healing._

_According to legend, there are sometimes “marked” individuals who are most favored by the Goddesses, more so than even royalty. These individuals might unlock supreme and uncharted power. But in exchange for the glory they achieve as mere mortals, the mighty Goddesses who have helped them might want something in exchange._

_This nature of dependence on the Goddesses, subtly present at all levels of Conviction Magic, is perhaps one of the reasons the Gerudo began to turn their backs on it._

_(From “Of Shadows and Deceit: A Brief History of the Desert”)_

\-------

Harkinian stood tall, his back straight and hands on his hips. He wore a pleased smile—what he had to be pleased with, Zelda had no idea. Instead, she side-eyed him and concerned herself with ignoring the sheer number of eyes on them. Ganondorf was by far the wariest, rubbing the back of his neck and keeping his head low.

They were in Castle Town today. Whenever the Royal Family was out, they were bound to turn heads. Now, however, a few other things stole the attention.

“Mommy, who is that big scary man? And what happened to Hylia’s head?”

Nabooru, who was enjoying herself far more than her company, began to cackle.

“Yeah, Gan, who _is_ that big ugly man?”

“I believe ‘scary’ is the adjective he used. And shut up,” Ganondorf said.

While children looked wary of the large desert man, Zelda wasn’t oblivious to an obvious pack of female admirers Ganondorf managed to attract. Perhaps their fascination came from never seeing a man like him before. Compared to waifish Hylians, he was quite a masculine sight.

 _‘They should wait until he opens his mouth,’_ she thought.

“Why does no one look excited?” Harkinian said, turning to Zelda and looking genuinely confused. She felt a brief pang of sympathy.

“Father, it is…well, this whole thing is a little…” She gestured vaguely to get her point across.

It was absurd, is what it was. Zelda did not understand what possessed her father to this. _This,_ meaning forcing Ganondorf to be a pack mule and carry Hylia’s 50-pound, decapitated head to the center of Castle Town. He’d had it set down on a large pedestal right in front of the Temple of Time, but—Goddesses—he could have at least had someone patch up the cracks in Her face. Or bothered to replace Her missing eye. Or, really, just not presented this unsettling image to the public at all.

“But now the famous statue is more accessible than ever!” Harkinian argued. In his mind, this move had truly been a logical response to the Mount Lanayru incident. 

Zelda wouldn’t have cared, really; the initial shock of that day finally subsided, and she had thoroughly reasoned with any lingering fears. Ganondorf, for all intents and purposes, was not out to kill her. The other vague, unknown details of his intentions troubled her if she thought too much about it—but her sanity was thoroughly in check.

However, today she was forced to tag along to Castle Town and now had to deal with perturbed murmurs and the faint sound of kids crying. Flirtatious whispers from a pack of women referencing the most insufferable man she had ever met didn’t help. Her sanity was now compromised.

“Can’t your Goddesses just, like, magically chisel another one?” Nabooru asked. “This thing is…eugh, even I can’t look at it.” 

Jest or not, it was a fair question, Zelda decided. She pretended she didn’t hear it.

“I’ll say it again: shut up, Nabooru,” Ganondorf said through his teeth. One look at his face made it clear that he found this entire situation utterly ridiculous as well. Despite that, he did his best to position Hylia’s head upright, trying to make the mutilated deity shrine as welcoming as one could possibly be.

“Dammit,” he muttered when an ear, previously hanging on for dear life, decided the fight wasn’t worth it anymore. Ganondorf hastily tried to shove it in his pocket before anyone could notice, but the sound of Nabooru poorly stifling a burst of laughter was an utter giveaway.

Zelda turned away so they wouldn’t see her smile. This man was the very reason Hylia’s decapitated head would haunt hundreds of children’s dreams tonight, after all. She understood this, but damn if the current situation wasn’t at least a little humorous.

Ganondorf, unfortunately, caught onto her amusement—and looked a little surprised to see it. ‘Oh?’ his expression said, and he shot her a smile, as though they were in on the joke together.

Unfortunately, Harkinian didn’t find anything about it funny. 

“Give me that ear, Dragmire.” He held a commanding hand out. “If we don’t do this right, the Goddesses will be angry, and we will never find that cursed boy.”

Ganondorf sighed before pulling the stone ear of his pocket and dropping it into Harkinian’s hand. Harkinian strode up to the statue and with a snap of his fingers, magically bonded the ear into place. He shot Zelda a glare.

“I’m hard pressed to know what you find so funny.” He had no qualms about berating her in front of an audience, and she felt her face heat up.

“Nothing is funny. I am sorry, father,” Zelda said quickly, bowing her head.

“Don’t forget, you begged _me_ to be involved in this. If you cannot take it seriously, I will be happy to kick you out of the search.”

“Yes, father,” Zelda said, solemn.

It wasn’t that she underestimated just how dire the Courage situation was becoming. No, if anything, Zelda was sleeping less than ever. Wondering where he was, what he wanted, who she could trust; it was more than she’d ever juggled before.

It was just…so very on-brand for her father to be melodramatic about a statue’s ear falling off. His devotion to the Goddesses and other Hylian deities was sometimes stronger than her own. No doubt, it was the very reason Zelda only recently found a voice in Hylian politics.

In Harkinian’s mind, placing the statue’s remnants in such a public place was akin to paying Hylia a great deal of respect. In a twisted sort of way, Zelda perfectly understood this reasoning, perhaps as a testament to her Goddess-centric upbringing. Therefore, she hardened her features and pushed any amusing thoughts out of her mind.

 _‘Dumb girl,’_ she thought. Even when he wasn’t trying, Ganondorf still found ways to mess with her. And worse, she allowed herself to be distracted by it.

“Your highness,” a voice suddenly cut through the crowd. Zelda turned around and saw a young man approach her father, clutching a ‘wanted’ sign in a leather-gloved hand. Harkinian raised an eyebrow.

“Please, I have information about the boy who wields the legendary blade,” he said, bowing at Harkinian’s feet. He must have been around Zelda’s age, with sandy brown hair and sharp blue eyes. He was handsome. Something about his appearance was reminiscent of a simple, honest farmhand.

And yet, Harkinian eyed him suspiciously. “We’ve heard many other fruitless claims, boy.”

The young man looked up. “Look, I know I’m just a kid and you’ve no real reason to believe me. But I know where he is, honest.”

“And where would that be?” Harkinian said, humoring him rather than making a serious inquiry. 

“Well, listen…” the man fidgeted. “I know the folks hiding him. They had good intentions and all…But they’re starting to get nervous. You gotta promise they won’t get hurt or anything.”

“That all depends on whether the boy puts up a fuss or not,” Harkinian said in a low voice. Zelda could tell her father was becoming intrigued; the worry etched onto the young man’s face would be hard to feign; so too would his wide, pleading eyes.

“I don’t think he would, your highness. He’s just a kid…real in over his head. Doesn’t even know how to wield the thing.”

“You’ve met him?” Ganondorf stepped forward, peering down at the stranger with his intense, golden gaze.

He gulped. “Um, y-yes, sir. I live in Kakariko, a real small village in the Dueling Peaks. The folks hiding him sort of got everyone involved on the secret. ‘In the name of legend’, and all that.”

“He’s in Kakariko Village?” Harkinian, officially on board with the lead, had wide eyes as he shook the man’s shoulders. “That’s where he’s hiding?”

“Just on the outskirts,” he said. “The folks are farmers…they’ve been keeping him in this big barn just outside of town. Can’t miss it.”

“And how can I be sure you’re not lying to us?” Harkinian asked.

“I can’t really prove anything, your highness,” the man said, shuffling his feet. He frowned. “But I don’t want any prize money for this. None at all. I...” A very grim look settled on his face. “I just wanna be able to say I did the right thing.”

Even so, there was a courageous glint in his eyes. His words held impressive conviction, too, considering he was talking to a king. And yet, his gaze lingered on Zelda, as though she had more pull in this than her father did.

Zelda instinctively looked at Ganondorf, who was already staring at her with unreadable eyes. She gave a tense shrug.

For her account, the young man seemed truthful. A simple Hylian scared for the safety of his village, trying to do the right thing before being found out the hard way. Ganondorf seemed to be thinking along the same lines, because he rubbed his jaw thoughtfully.

“Sounds like it would be worth investigating, Harkinian,” he said in a low voice.

“Indeed. I’ll send my best men out tonight,” Harkinian declared, before turning to address the stranger firmly. “Make sure no one suspects anything. You’ve done the right thing, boy.”

The stranger tore his eyes from Zelda, looked down and rubbed the back of his neck. His grim expression persisted. “Yeah, I suppose I have.”

A few more details were ironed out regarding Harkinian’s search team—along with excessive insistence from the man that no one from his village gets hurt—and he was off, swiftly disappearing into the bustling marketplace crowd. Impa was the first to speak.

“That was…interesting.”

“We’re lucky no one heard any of this, yeesh,” Nabooru said. The Hylians around them were far too concerned with daily errands—or staring at Ganondorf from a healthy distance—to eavesdrop on the makeshift meeting. “Want me to go tonight, Harkinian? I bet Impa and I could take him down, easy.”

As it was, Zelda and Ganondorf’s second were getting along far more swimmingly than they were. Zelda had no doubt they could handle any stealth mission thrown their way.

Harkinian waved his hand as though he were swatting a fly. “No, no. That would be a waste of your time. I’ll send my highest-ranking knights, that’ll be plenty.”

“Are you sure, your grace?” Impa asked.

“You heard the stranger: that boy hardly knows how to wield his sword. I’m not worried.”

“That is assuming he was telling the truth,” Ganondorf murmured, but Harkinian was already walking away.

They made their way back to the castle, but not before Harkinian weaseled in a comment about Hylia repaying them for their virtuous efforts to honor Her.

\-------

A few hours later, Zelda was bombarded by a couple of Lords while on her way to the chapel for some evening prayers. They were, as usual, a total waste of time, wanting to chat with her about this or that—the most pressing topic this evening was a charity ball she would be hosting in a few weeks. 

“What kind of kingdom do we live in, where this fair maiden does not have a date to the ball?”

“It is quite alright, Lord Tybalt,” Zelda said, incredibly fatigued by the pleasant affect she had to adopt around them. “I am not looking for an escort.”

“Surely your father wouldn’t want you attending alone,” another pressed with an unctuous smile. “He has told _me_ he wants you to marry.”

Internally, Zelda rolled her eyes and fought the urge to retch. On the outside, she smiled sweetly and shrugged. “That is quite funny, Lord Barom. He has not mentioned the concept to me.”

That was a lie, of course, but she would be hard-pressed to let any of these men court her. Having them within her five-foot radius was unpleasant enough.

 _‘Goddesses, where is Impa?’,_ she thought. Impa knew exactly how to gracefully ward off smarmy, social-climbing men such as these. And as far as Zelda was concerned, Impa was the only ‘date’ she needed to any ball.

In the end, however, her savior was none other than the Desert King himself.

“Princess,” Ganondorf strode up to her, fully proper in the presence of others, and held out his arm. “A word?”

The Lords looked at him in wide-eyed awe. Zelda saw their wheels turning and could only imagine the scandalous conclusions they were coming to. Conclusions that were especially fueled by how irritated Ganondorf appeared by their presence.

“King Dragmire,” Zelda said, giving a curtsy. “Of course.” She rested her hand on his forearm and followed as he led her away from the men. She tried to pinpoint her emotions—relief or annoyance? Perhaps it was a healthy mixture of both.

“What are you doing?” She asked between her teeth, confident there was enough distance between them and the Lords that no one would hear. 

“What?” Ganondorf said, feigning innocence. “You said that if I wanted to speak with you, I shouldn’t grab you like a, and I quote, ‘barbarian’.”

Zelda frowned, thinking back to a few weeks ago when she seethed those exact words at him. “Well, I suppose—”

“Do you not want me to ask politely, either? Which is it?”

“Oh, hush,” Zelda said, not bothering to conceal a hearty eye-roll. “I am just...surprised to see you, that is all.”

Ganondorf led her into the courtyard. The sun was setting; most castle residents had gone inside to eat dinner, leaving them alone. He stepped in front of her and, to Zelda’s surprise, was grinning.

“You’re such a good girl around those oily little Lords…I am pleased that you feel comfortable enough to give me some attitude.”

“I could say the same about you, you know,” Zelda huffed, deciding against correcting him.

 _Comfortable_ was a stretch. Exasperation was far more accurate; Zelda could not be bothered to put up a ‘good princess’ front for Ganondorf—he would certainly see through it, anyways. Similarly, he dropped the ‘good king’ act the second they were alone together, too. 

“You could,” Ganondorf said, confirming her inner monologue. “Although…it might surprise you, Zelda, but I actually think of you as my only true equal. Along with Courage, that is.” He tapped the sigil on his right hand, a small smile playing at his lips.

“Oh?” Zelda said. “You have an interesting way of showing so.”

Ganondorf hummed. “That’s because I wasn’t expecting you to be so…as you are,” he said, eyeing her up and down.

“Divine Wisdom does not grant me mind-reading abilities, you know,” she quipped. “I have not the slightest clue what you mean.”

“When I arrived to Hyrule, I was expecting you to be ignorant, snotty and entirely sheltered. I mean, Harkinian never mentioned you when he visited the desert, so I was not expecting a seasoned diplomat by any means—”

“Alright, point taken,” Zelda said, bristling.

“I now realize…that out of all of those things...I was only correct about you being incredibly snotty. I underestimated that trait, actually.”

“I am leaving,” Zelda said flatly, turning on her heel. She didn’t make it far before Ganondorf was in front of her again, laughing.

“Now, now, Zelda,” he said. “It was a joke. Admittedly a terrible one; I can practically hear Nabooru rolling her eyes at me.”

Zelda, for all of her annoyance, was intrigued. Ganondorf had never been silly with her, never in a quasi-good-natured way, at least. Though unsure what triggered it, she had to admit she didn’t _hate_ it. It elicited more of an anger-annoyance hybrid within her, but not pure animosity. That was progress, right?

Yeah, she’ll go with that. She pushed her weight onto one of her legs, crossed her arms and waited for him to explain further.

“I was _actually_ correct about you being sheltered,” Ganondorf said, straightening. “But now…now I see now that your ignorance isn’t your choice. Or even your preference.”

“Of course, it is not.” Zelda sighed, giving up the good fight a little. “I have tried my entire life to participate in important matters. My father does not think me capable.”

“Oh, I am confident you are far more capable than him,” Ganondorf said, something dark lacing his words. “The book I saw you reading…it shocked me, seeing you seek the truth. For a long time, I believed you should cling to your ignorance, even if it made you just that. Though, my reasons for those thoughts were quite selfish.”

 _‘What could he possibly mean by that?’_ Zelda thought, face scrunching a bit.

“I am not happy living in a bubble, Power,” she said instead, taking the most tangible route of conversation. “I have fought my whole life against the ignorance thrust upon me. I see no reason to cling to lies.”

“That’s because you are still in the dark about some things, silly girl.”

Zelda reddened at the irritating nickname. “I do not plan to be for long.”

“Right.” Ganondorf leaned down so he was slightly more level with her. “I just want to say that I support your quest for the grim truth. I respect it, now. Just don’t be afraid of me when you find out. I am not out to hurt you, Wisdom.”

At that, he turned to walk away.

 _‘Is that really all he had to say to me?’_ Zelda thought, ruminating over the quasi-peace offering he had just made.

“Ganondorf.” The words were out before she could process what she was doing. “You are not like I thought you would be, either.”

He paused before turning on his heels. “Is that so?” he said, hands stuffed into his pockets. He looked relaxed, entirely unphased by Zelda’s observation. It was as though he knew exactly what she meant. 

“I was expecting an angry, fierce and power-hungry king. But…you are not that at all.”

Ganondorf took another step closer, humming in consideration.

“You seek no authority over my father. You are infuriatingly passive and avoid all conflict. You are not power hungry or overtly malicious. If _I_ am a disappointment to my past lives,” Zelda locked eyes with him. “Then you are, too.”

Ganondorf grinned again, persistently unbothered. “I have my reasons, just like you. Context, Zelda.”

 _‘Gathering context is a work in progress,’_ she wanted to say. Instead, she aired the thoughts that have haunted her since his stormy arrival.

“Why do you not wish to smite me? Or smite my father? I do not get you. Where is your primal, innate thirst for power, Ganondorf?”

He placed a hand on Zelda’s head, ruffling her hair a bit. His eyes, grim and bleak, were a stark contrast to the oddly gentle gesture.

“Your father has something of mine that I want back. Something significant. In fact, reclaiming what I’ve lost is far more important to me than all the power in the world.”

“What could he possibly have taken from you?” Zelda asked. Her mind raced with possible answers and theories, but none of her conjectures made sense. 

Ganondorf’s hand dropped from her head to rest on her shoulder. “Oh, to be as adorably innocent as you are, silly girl.”

She smacked his hand off of her. “Condescending dolt.”

“Zelda…you’re just so fun to tease. I know quite well you’re a very smart girl,” he said, turning away again. “You will uncover the truth in time. Perhaps you might even want to help me.”

“Why not just tell me?” Zelda called. She knew her question was futile, knew that Ganondorf was currently basking in having the upper hand.

“What fun would that be?” He called back, confirming what she already knew.

And with that, he left her in the courtyard, a flustered and confused mess. Ganondorf held the knowledge she craved, and—wait. Zelda had a sudden thought.

Perhaps this one advantage over her—no, perhaps _all_ of his teasing and micro-attempts to get under her skin…perhaps it was _just_ enough to satisfy his repressed thirst for power. A thirst quelled by an even fiercer drive to reclaim something lost.

Even still—Zelda worried her bottom lip—for once, it hadn’t all been subtly degrading banter.

_“I know quite well you’re a very smart girl.”_

She brought a hand to her hair, combing the strands he fondly misplaced. Her brain felt foggy, all of the sudden. Deep within Zelda’s subconscious, his praise, his hint of approval ignited a small flame within her belly. Consciously, she wrote it off as mere annoyance. 

Yes. _That_ was a lie Zelda was very willing to live in. 

\-------

The news came days later, when Harkinian’s knights never returned and he sent a second group to Kakariko.

All of his men had been killed, their necks cleanly slit and left to bleed out in the abandoned barn. A round of questions revealed no one in the village knew about Courage’s whereabouts. There were no “farmer folks” and certainly no “village secret”.

Most deceivingly, no one knew anything about a young man with sandy brown hair and sharp blue eyes.

There was a hasty knock at her chambers. Zelda tensed immediately—she was already very on edge—before slowly padding to the door and opening it a crack.

“Viscen?” She said, perplexed. The young knight was part of the second search team, and they were supposed to be out providing more in-depth reports to her father. What business he had at her door, she had no idea. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m sorry, princess.” He looked gaunt, like the mission had aged him considerably. “I-I might not be in the best state of mind to do this. But I found this at the scene of the crime. Kept it to myself ‘cause I didn’t know what the king would do about it. I think you should see it before anyone else.”

He handed her a rolled-up piece of parchment, bid her a good night—if “you didn’t get this from me” counts as a goodnight—and left. Zelda managed a wary peek down the hall to ensure there were no witnesses to the exchange, but the night was eerily quiet. Confident she was alone, she closed the door and crept back to her bed.

The note was written in chicken scratch, clearly under hasty circumstances. Zelda grimaced when she took in the dried blood chaotically splattered around the edges. Surely the blood of Harkinian’s best knights, she thought with a wince. The message itself was simple and precise, yet she was left with a hundred questions. 

_Princess Zelda,_

_Our marks are our curse. You know this, right?_

_I am not the enemy._

The signature was smudged with ink and blood. Zelda spent a good few minutes peering at the parchment in different lighting, trying to see the blurred penmanship and make out the letters. 

L-i-n-k…? _‘Yes, yes those are the letters,’_ she thought. ‘ _I’m sure of it.’_

Link.

“A curse, huh?” Zelda said darkly, rubbing the sigil on her right hand. She couldn’t say she disagreed, really. Not when she thought about the day she was marked.

Nevertheless, the note left her paralyzed with fear. She sent a watchman to fetch Impa, who had a lot of questions when she arrived to take in Zelda’s trembling form.

“What with the search party going awry, I suppose I feel a little anxious tonight,” Zelda said, exempting herself from guilt with the fact that this was only a _partial_ lie. As it stood, she already felt remorseful enough calling on Impa in the middle of the night.

“Of course, princess,” Impa said slowly, obviously not buying it. It wasn’t her place to ask questions, however, and she took to her post outside Zelda’s bedroom door. This left Zelda alone with the note and a whole swarm of thoughts invading her brain.

“Nice to meet you, Courage. Well played.”

Trembling hands buried the note deep within her desk drawers. She entombed herself under her blankets as thoughts of what to do next maimed her waking consciousness. One thought prevailed above them all.

 _‘This…’_ Zelda thought, _‘this could be quite bad.’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welcome to my garden, all plot seeds and no flowers
> 
> "give me that ear, dragmire" was my favorite line to write ever lmao 
> 
> there is no way in hell I will be able to consistently maintain a once-weekly update schedule but for now im pumping this OUT lol...this story is getting dense (too dense? definitely 100% too dense) and I've literally never written a longfic before and I have pressing Adult Life responsibilities but alas.....I pretty much wrote this entire chapter in one day if that is a testament to just how passionate about this dumb story I am. fun fact: this tale has been bubbling since November of 2019 when I was in a real funky place (as in I literally wrote 12k words and then completely scrapped it and started over and now we have this hot garbage) 
> 
> (also: I wrote a smut scene to be used later on because I am degenerate trash)
> 
> thanks for reading and comments are always appreciated! :)


	6. Chapter 6 - And Deceit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Slowly but surely, Zelda connects the dots. Ganondorf provides an unlikely helping hand. A new enemy is on the horizon.

_Dark Magic is not an inherently evil power to wield. In fact, it can be incredibly useful to those who master it. Due to its name and origins, it is widely misunderstood for an abundance of reasons. For one thing, Dark Magic is entirely controlled by the individual who wields it and therefore contains potential that has not been fully understood or documented yet._

_The idea that something is not controlled by the Goddesses is, historically, a very taboo concept within the Kingdom of Hyrule. This vast unknown is fertile ground for fear, persecution and animosity to grow._

_(From “Of Shadows and Deceit: A Brief History of the Desert”)_

\-------

Drastic security measures were taken since the killings at Kakariko. Guards took post at every corner of the castle. Corridors crawled with watchmen and knights ready to strike down intruders. Zelda was seldom allowed to leave, even for a stroll out in Castle Town. She was restricted to the indoors, perhaps the courtyard if Harkinian felt particularly generous that day.

It didn’t make her feel any safer. In fact, it was as though Harkinian had declared war on the outside world. And—Zelda stiffened—and he didn’t even know about the grim note Viscen had given her.

 _'Perhaps it should stay that way,’_ Zelda thought. What good would extra fear do, anyways? She could bear this alone, for now. Courage—Link—was only one man.

 _‘One man who took down a whole squadron of Harkinian’s best knights,’_ an intrusive thought reminded her. Zelda shuddered. On the bright side, at least the foggy unknowns regarding Link’s motives and skill level were becoming marginally clearer. It wasn’t painting a pretty picture, but knowledge is power, after all.

Unfortunately, there wasn’t much Zelda could do to act on this new knowledge; awaiting new developments while continuing her other research would have to suffice for now.

Now, she sat curled up in her chambers, finally finishing up _Of Shadows and Deceit._ She put it down with a sigh, ruminating over information that had been _just_ out of reach—while simultaneously right under her nose—her entire life.

The Dark War wasn’t about annexation of the desert, not directly at least. It was an attempt by the Hylian military to curb the growing usage of Dark Magic by blunt force. It would have been a genocide, really, if the Gerudo didn’t have a somewhat developed militia on their side.

_“Once the Interlopers taught the Gerudo all they knew, they vanished into the shadows. In their wake, disaster began to brew. Dark Magic became the Gerudo’s preferred wizardry, and other races soon became wary. Rumors about an evil uprising in the desert reached colonies within Hyrule—tales that the Gerudo wanted to use their Anti-Conviction Magic to claim a sect of the grassy lands._

_Most impactfully, King Rhoam XI began to have vivid dreams where the Goddesses warned him about such invasions. The dreams turned to waking hallucinations, and it was not long before a war was waged.”_

This particular passage made Zelda furrow her brows together. She never knew her grandfather—he died two years before she was born, leaving Harkinian to claim the throne and finish the war—but something about that sequence of events didn’t make any sense. Was a 15-year war truly waged because of divine hallucinations? Because of vague, groundless claims? The pieces didn’t fit.

Well, it _was_ a “brief” history of the desert, after all. And perhaps this is what Shad meant when he referred to ‘bias, incomplete collections of information’.

For now, though, she had more pressing matters to attend to.

Zelda took the long way to Ganondorf’s chambers. It wasn’t a visit she felt particularly excited about, anyways. Nevertheless, she smiled at the guard’s passing glances, ignoring their upturned eyebrows in response to their princess gracing the visitor’s wing of the castle.

“I figured it was you,” Ganondorf said upon opening the door. “None of the guards knock so daintily.”

“Is there an issue with the way I knock?” She asked, already annoyed.

Neither were phased by the lack of proper greeting; this felt much more natural than the phony image they keep up in front of Harkinian’s court. Ganondorf gave her an obvious once-over and shrugged.

“Not at all, Zelda. Just a testament to your…femininity.”

She frowned, but decided it wasn’t the _most_ insulting thing he’d said to her. She could let it go, if only to further her own agenda.

Stepping into his chambers, Zelda tried to ignore the blatant tension that immediately arose. They were entirely alone, not even accompanied by Nabooru or Impa for once. And they weren’t alone on Mount Lanayru, or in the castle courtyard—they were alone in Ganondorf’s _bedroom._

Zelda wasn’t afraid, though. On the contrary, she felt eerily at ease, if a touch stiff.

“I finished the book,” she said matter-of-factly. A small part of her hoped to see a hint of approval in his golden eyes, but they were unreadable.

“And?” Is all Ganondorf gave her. 

Zelda cleared her throat. “I want you to show me Dark Magic.”

“No.”

“What? Why not?” Zelda cringed at the whiny tone she adopted. She wasn’t expecting to be turned down by him, not when he’d been looking at her with so much intrigue lately. And not after their conversation in the courtyard, where he claimed to support her search for the truth.

“Because I…can’t.”

“You do not know how to wield it?”

Ganondorf tore his eyes from hers and stared at something far away. “No. I do.”

“Then what is the problem, Power?”

Ganondorf didn’t respond. He looked tormented, suddenly; similar to how he appeared on Mount Lanayru when Zelda accused him of evil intentions. His jaw was clenched, eyes downcast and fists tightened at his sides. He wanted to talk. Now, however, he wasn’t refraining from disclosure for his own amusement.

This left Zelda alone with her own thoughts and her indiscriminate shards of a scattered, enormous puzzle. For the first time, two small pieces clicked.

“Wait a minute,” Zelda lolled her head to the side, narrowing her eyes at him. “Dark Magic is why my spell did not work on you a few weeks ago, in the Great Hall. Is it not?”

This changed Ganondorf’s demeanor from torn to hesitantly charmed. He brought his thumb to his mouth, a small grin playing underneath it.

“What a smart girl,” he praised, and Zelda felt that new, still-foreign heat settle in her belly again. It was a feeling _entirely_ too pleasant to be caused by Ganondorf, but the correlation was undeniable. She chased the feeling, wanted him to call her a smart girl again, or a silly girl, or a good girl—

_‘Focus, Zelda, for the love of Nayru.’_

“If you could use it then, why are you unable to show me now?”

“I wasn’t using it intentionally,” Ganondorf said, as if that were a perfectly sensible explanation.

“What?”

“It doesn’t matter, Zelda,” he said, resigned. “Now you know all about the war and the lies your daddy told you. What are you going to do about it?”

“I…I do not know, yet,” Zelda answered honestly. It was true; there were still too many discrepancies for the war—and her kingdom’s muddled history with the desert—to make any sense. Ganondorf’s comment offered her the impression that they now share the same breadth of knowledge, but Zelda sensed that couldn’t be farther from the truth.

Ganondorf sighed. “Your next step was to watch me use Dark Magic and I have completely crushed your hopes and dreams, right?”

“In a much less dramatic sense, that was my next step, yes.”

“Hm. Curious one, aren’t we?”

“You could say that,” Zelda said, ignoring his playful tone. “Knowledge is my power. Perhaps in another lifetime you would have understood.”

The reference to his comment in the courtyard—‘ _reclaiming what I’ve lost is far more important to me than all the power in the world_ ’—was not lost on him. Ganondorf frowned and bent over her suddenly, causing her back to hit the stone wall. He caged her between his forearms, looking down at her with a novel seriousness.

“You’re cockier than I anticipated. Dark Magic is taboo, yet here you are begging to see it up close.”

“And?” Zelda said, crossing her arms and throwing his own dryness right back at him.

“You’re meddling in things you don’t understand.”

“I _want_ to understand. Do you not get that?”

“I do get that,” Ganondorf said, leaning in closer. “And it’s becoming damn annoying.”

“You said you support my research,” Zelda gaped, hoping she sounded less personally offended than she felt. Why was Ganondorf’s approval becoming so important to her?

“I support your independent quest for information,” he rephrased. “I don’t support you sticking your naughty little nose in my business.”

“Oh, you are just—”

“What, Zelda? What am I?” Ganondorf was inches from her face now, hands still firmly planted on either side of her head. The flame in her belly ignited into a blazing inferno, causing the hairs on the back of her neck to stand up and legs to tremble.

 _‘An insufferable jerk,’_ she wanted to say, despite it all.

“You…extrapolate significant joy from being infuriatingly ambiguous,” is all she could come up with, because she didn’t want to be too bratty and risk gaining no new information. Her arms wrapped around her waist and she couldn’t meet his gaze. Cheeks ablaze, she prayed the dim castle lighting didn’t highlight her cherry red cheeks.

Ganondorf retreated a bit, but his hands remained firmly planted on the wall.

“I don’t get joy from any of this,” he said. His tone was dull—the closest to vulnerability she reckoned he could get. He stared at her for a long time before a decision came over him.

The look on his face was akin to a man who just lost an internal battle within himself. Sighing, he lifted his hand as a warning before regarding her with a gentle whisper: “Hold still.”

Zelda’s eyes widened when he rested a large hand over her chest, right above her heart. He held her firm against the wall, eyes downcast and frowning.

“What are you—”

“Shh. I won’t hurt you.”

A purple mist materialized on his hand, tickling the exposed skin of Zelda’s chest. She flinched, but the pain never came. Instead, she felt cold, electric waves pulse through her veins with a force that extended her arms at her sides and made her toes curls. For a moment, she couldn’t breathe.

When Ganondorf let go she slumped into herself, chest heaving. She ignored his dark eyes on her form as she patted herself over, seeking signs of damage or foul-play. However, she was unharmed; the only indication he laid hands on her at all was her messy hair, flushed cheeks and strange coil in her lower half.

“What did you just do to me?”

“I showed you Dark Magic.”

Zelda paled. “And I suppose I am cursed, now?”

Ganondorf laughed. “I _suppose_ that’s not a completely ignorant assumption. But, no. You should be able to contact your lovely Hylia, now.”

“…What do you mean?”

“If I tell you, will you promise to be a good girl and not get feisty with me?”

Zelda was overcome with a desire to please him. The intrusive thought that she would do just about anything he asked in this moment disturbed her. 

“I will do my best,” she said.

Ganondorf gave her a knowing smile, and she feared he knew exactly what was going on in her head. If he did, she thanked the Goddesses he didn’t speak on it.

“I believe somehow, our energy channels crossed on Mount Lanayru. You were touched by my…” A grim look crossed Ganondorf’s face as he contemplated his phrasing. “My Dark Magic, in a way. I did not intend for that to happen.”

“And that is why I could not reach Her and became stuck in a trance?” Disturbed as she was, Zelda kept up with the information presented to her. “And why She…” _‘Exploded,’_ Zelda interred but couldn’t quite finish. Ganondorf understood well enough and nodded.

“Precisely. Your precious Goddesses don’t like my…energy.” Again, he appeared conflicted with his wording. “They turn their backs on those touched by it.”

 _‘Turn Their backs?’_ Zelda felt her eyes well up with tears. “They…will They smite me for this?”

She couldn’t help her reaction—the news that she angered and disrespected her deities went against everything she grew up cherishing. It was the ultimate sin, and the idea that the disaster on Mount Lanayru was partially her fault horrified her.

She fully expected Ganondorf to laugh. Why would he care about such matters? But he knelt down on one knee and looked up at her with assuring, golden eyes.

“Oh, Zelda…no. They won’t smite you.” He let out a small laugh, not to chastise but to comfort. “If they are to smite anyone, I assure you it will be me.”

Zelda sniffled a bit, regarding him with hesitant trust. He placed a large hand on her shoulder.

“I broke down and absorbed the matter blocking your channels. It’s my problem now.”

“You what?” Zelda was back to being worried, this time for an entirely different reason. “Why would you do that? That is reckless, we could have figured something else out—”

Ganondorf silenced her by tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Shh, panic doesn’t look good on you. I will be fine, trust me on that. I know how to wield it.”

His words put Zelda at ease. She took in his scarlet hair; his piercing gold eyes and broad shoulders—he likely _would_ be fine. He had the aura of a man who could handle anything thrown his way.

But then a thought struck her. “You knew I was plagued this entire time?”

“No,” Ganondorf said. “But I had a suspicion when you remained unable to contact Hylia even after the mountain incident.”

“Why would you not tell me weeks ago, then?”

Ganondorf shook his head. “I didn’t want to scare you before you finished _Of Shadows._ Plus, you hate my guts and wouldn’t have listened anyways, silly girl.”

Zelda frowned at that; it was, admittedly, a reasonable assumption. But Ganondorf didn’t sound angry, and he looked at her with a small smile.

“I do not hate you, Power. I just…do not understand you.” The first half was hard to get out, but Zelda supposed it was true. Somewhere along the line, since the stormy night he arrived, Ganondorf had become less infuriating and more intriguing to her.

He smirked. “I can work with that.”

She left his room feeling frazzled. Had she just met Ganondorf, she would have assumed his spell had messed with her instead of helped. But she felt unmistakably lighter as she made her way to the chapel, as though a weight she didn’t know she was carrying had been lifted. Her head felt clearer, her mood brighter and her anxiety markedly decreased.

With so much going on, Zelda had assumed the proverbial black cloud following her around since Lanayru was related to working too hard and being surrounded by grown men who thought far too little of her. She hadn’t considered another reason. Especially that she had been touched by something her religion considered taboo and—despite what _Of Shadows and Deceit_ claimed—quite evil. 

The mere thought made her shudder; that Hylia didn’t want to speak with her because Ganondorf tainted her energy channels. Everything about his explanation made sense when it was placed into context, but it still left Zelda with the nagging feeling she was in above her head.

She pushed Ganondorf to the back of her mind and kneeled in front of the small Hylia statue situated in the castle’s chapel.

Taking a deep breath, Zelda began to recite a beckoning prayer. Immediately, she could tell Ganondorf did something good when he cast his spell on her. A calm warmth settled over her and she closed her eyes, relaxing as she continued to recite the ancient verses. She felt Hylia’s presence and welcomed it hesitantly, still not entirely convinced she wouldn’t be smote out of anger. But a smiting never came.

 _‘You are in danger!’_ Hylia said instead. Zelda felt Her presence, closer than ever. _‘You must see the truth.’_

She closed her eyes and saw it. 

\---

She was a girl, only ten years old. She sat in her room, pulling her hair in to a tight braid at the back of her skull. She was nervous; her father had been awfully stressed lately. Good thing that boy from the forest had agreed to help her. Father never believed her about her dreams…

She stroked her marked hand. As long as she had the Goddesses, she had a chance.

\---

Zelda stared at her reflection with a frown. It was her 16th birthday. Another year of failure surely awaited her. Another year of failing her friends, failing her appointed knight—failing her father. She worried about him because she wanted to please him. She worried because she wanted to feel useful.

Her hand remained unmarked. Why would the Goddesses not speak to her? What was wrong with her?

\---

Zelda took the throne because she had to, a young woman of only eighteen. The twilight fell in dark cloaks across her kingdom, and she hid from it. She hid because her father would know what to do, but he was not here to help her. Father passed away weeks ago. 

Upon her right hand, her sigil shone quietly. Her reign would be guided by Them.

\---

She did not trust the man with evil eyes. The one who swore allegiance to her father, the one who must be lying. He wanted something. The Goddesses told her he did. Nayru had come to her again last night, telling her to fear him. Telling her to defy him.

She felt the power course through her veins, and she wanted more of it. She needed more of it. The man from the desert grew stronger and yet, she was just a child.

\---

Zelda’s hand hit the cold water with a drastic sense of defeat. They would not speak to her. What had she done in her past lives to deserve this?

She looked into the distance, where the disaster threatened to strike at any moment. Power and Courage were both awakened, but her potential remained in a deep slumber. It was her destiny to slay the wrath of the Calamity, and yet the Goddesses refused to show her the way.

\---

She surrendered under the tip of the Zant’s sword. She was not powerful enough to stop him. She never would be. The voices in her head told her the very same thing. _‘How could you be useful if you are dead? How could you be useful to us, then?’_ they would say. Zelda agreed blindly.

He sword fell to the ground with a resounding clatter, signaling an offer. Her kingdom for her life.

\---

Her father, her friends, her knight…they were all killed. Only then did her hand begin to glow, only then did her power awaken. Why had They helped her when it was too late?

She sealed the Calamity away, turning around to witness the destruction surrounding her. The death, the decay…the apocalypse. The sigil on her hand glowed brightly, but at what cost? And why _now?_

\---

She was blinded by her visions. They came to her in her dreams and in the wake of daylight. A black horse galloping through flames, ten feet tall. A man riding atop it, setting the world on fire. The Goddesses showed her what would become of Hyrule if—

\---

She sent his body away. Perhaps he would survive. She would fight the Calamity alone, if it was Their Will—

\---

She hid behind her cloak, sending the wolf and the imp to do her bidding. She needed to be safe in order to be of use to Them—

\---

She cried at the foot of the statue, bargaining for her father’s life—

\---

She grinned as the world bent to her will. With this mark, she could do anything—

\---

Zelda had moments of striking, terrifying clarity. If she squinted, she could almost see the string attached to her sigil. She imagined looking upwards and seeing a marionettist, pulling her in this direction or that, like a puppet—

\---

Within the small chapel, Zelda drowned in memories of the past. Of days so very far away. Each moment felt real and lived, but not in her body. She took hundreds of different forms and hundreds of different appearances. Lived hundreds of different lives with hundreds of different people. Always the same name. Always the same counterparts—Power and Courage.

Always the same Goddesses.

She collapsed onto her hands and knees, heaving as though she had sprinted a hundred miles. If someone warned her that she would relive her past lives, she would expect memories of slaying—or being slain by—Ganondorf to resurface. Memories of teaming up with Courage to take down a corrupt evil. But Hylia showed her something entirely different.

Her decisions were never her own. Her abilities were never on her terms, no matter how hard she worked to hone them. The gift, the blessed mark on her right hand—it was never really hers to wield at all.

A thought struck her as she ran out of the chapel into the night. Anywhere to get away, anywhere to be alone with her rising panic.

Should Ganondorf relive his past lives, what would he see?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not beta'd at all lmao. if I make any major changes I will make note of it here :) 
> 
> shit is getting real y'all....I made a ton of references to random zelda games but hopefully the vibe of that scene gets through even if you've never played them before!
> 
> thanks for reading and once again, comments are always appreciated!


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